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When your gaze found mine #lovepoem #surrealpoem #poetrydaily

When your gaze found mine, the whole world swayed, As if the earth had missed a hidden beat; The sunlight suddenly grew unafraid, Then melted like warm gold around my feet. I tried to look away, but something stayed, A trembling little universe in you; My eyes became two doors I could not close, And every secret seemed to wander through. I felt my cheeks turn roses in the rain, A sudden fire underneath my skin; The stars began to whisper my sweet shame, While little suns kept blooming from within. Your eyes were not just eyes, they were a place, A strange blue room where gravity was gone; I wandered through the silence of your gaze And somehow lost the person I was on. My heartbeat stumbled, then forgot its name, It ran barefoot through corridors of light; I blushed as though the moon had called me beautiful, Then hid my face from heaven's watching sight. The trees leaned closer, jealous of the view, The flowers opened wider just to see; Even the wind became unusually shy, As thoug...
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A Soul in Search of Rest #sadpoetry #freeverse #poem

It was never easy,
not the kind of living
wrapped in gentle mornings
or softened by mercy.

It was a slow unraveling,
a quiet undoing of the self,
where tears did not simply fall,
they descended like burdens,
heavy with unspoken grief,
etching sorrow
into the hollow of your being.

Each drop carried a story,
each silence, a wound
too deep for language.

The days blurred into weight,
a suffocating presence
pressed against your chest,
where even breath
felt borrowed,
uncertain,
fragile as breaking glass.

And in that heaviness,
stress became a shadow,
faithful, relentless,
trailing your every step,
whispering exhaustion
into the marrow of your bones.

Isolation followed,
not as absence,
but as abandonment.

A world within a world
where voices faded,
where faces passed
without recognition,
where your existence
became a quiet echo
lost in crowded emptiness.

No hand reached.
No name was called.

Just you,
and the deafening stillness
of being unseen.

Then came poverty,
not merely the lack of coin,
but the erosion of dignity,
the slow theft of comfort,
the stripping away
of all that once resembled stability.

It crept like a cold wind
through broken spaces,
touching every corner of your life,
your hunger,
your sleep,
your fragile sense of worth.

It taught you how to survive
on fragments,
on less than enough,
on hope stretched thin
to the point of breaking.

And so you moved,
not living,
not fully gone,
but suspended somewhere in between.

A drifting presence,
a wandering echo,
a soul untethered
from meaning.

Like something lifeless
searching for warmth,
like a spirit abandoned
in the ruins of its own existence.

A dead soul,
walking among the living,
searching,
aching,
for a place to rest.

A place not of grandeur,
but of quiet belonging.

Yet even within that void,
within that unbearable stillness,
something refused to perish.

A flicker,
faint, trembling,
yet unyielding.

Because even the most broken soul
carries a whisper of return,
a silent defiance
against complete disappearance.

And though the journey is heavy,
Though the night stretches long,
there remains, somewhere unseen,

a place where the weary
may finally lay their burdens,
where the fractured
may gather their pieces,

and where even a soul
that felt long dead
may remember,
How to breathe again.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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