There is a place inside you No map has ever traced, a quiet room behind the ribs where light forgets to stay. No one sees it when you smile, No one hears it when you speak. It moves beneath your laughter like a river running deep. It is yours alone to carry, not carved for other hands, a language made of silence Only your soul understands. Some mornings it is heavier, a stone you cannot name, And still you rise and wear your life as if it were the same. But pain, it does not leave you when ignored or pushed away, it waits within the folds of time, it learns you day by day. It is not your enemy, though it cuts without a sound; it is the truth you buried but still lives underground. And yes, there are nights it breaks you, when endurance feels too wide, when even breath feels borrowed And there is nowhere left to hide. Yet somehow you continue, not because you do not fall, but because within the breaking You still answer life’s call. You learn to walk beside it, not beneath it, not above...
You are a memory to me,
nothing more than a fading outline
among the many faces
that once passed through my days.
I have met countless souls before you,
some who laughed beside me,
some who spoke my name
as if it meant something lasting.
Yet time carried them away
like leaves on a quiet river.
Some of them died.
Some simply disappeared
into the wide silence of life.
And strangely,
no deep wound opened in me,
no storm of grief remained.
You are like them now,
a name that drifts further each day,
a story my mind
no longer tries to finish.
Just live
as if you never met me.
It will be easier for you that way.
Do as I did,
turn your eyes forward,
walk past the echoes,
and let yesterday
close its own door.
That is how life moves
in the world I know:
people arrive like passing seasons,
and leave
as quiet memories
no longer needed. 🌫️
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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