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Love's Dark Reflection #lovepoetry #poetrydaily #poemaday

Love was never a heartbeat. It was the echo left behind after the heart forgot why it was still beating. It arrived wearing another person's face, its hands stitched together from promises that had already begun to rot. I welcomed it. Not because it was kind, but because loneliness knows how to mistake a wolf for warmth. Every smile it offered cast a longer shadow. Every whispered "forever" fed another ghost sleeping beneath my ribs. The thought of love is a clever liar. It builds cathedrals from broken mirrors, then asks us to kneel before our own reflections, calling the illusion destiny. How eagerly we obey. We water flowers that grow from graves, write poems to people who never truly existed, and embrace memories still unborn. Love watches. Silent. Patient. Like a spider waiting in the center of a web woven from hope. It never forces us inside. It simply lets us believe the silver threads are rays of morning light. By the time we understand, the sky has forgotten our ...
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Little Psycho #poem #freeverse

“Little psycho” 
that’s the name you gave me,
wrapped in laughter,
served with a smile you thought convincing.

You said it like you had read me,
like you had mapped the pulse beneath my skin,
like my silence was madness
instead of measurement.

You read my energy wrong.

You danced in counterfeit joy,
acting light, acting harmless,
trying to tilt the board
before I even chose my side.
You thought I didn’t see the strategy
behind your grin.

Little did you know,
I am quiet,
but I am wise.
I don’t just enter games,
I study them.

While you celebrated your imaginary victory,
I was arranging pieces.
Not loudly.
Not hurriedly.
Just precisely.

You mistook my stillness for weakness.
You mistook my patience for confusion.
But I was never lost,
I was calculating.

And in return,
I made you a pawn
in a chess game you didn’t know
you were playing.

One small move,
and suddenly
your laughter shifted.
One silent decision,
and the board changed.

How does it feel
to be outplayed
by the “little psycho”?

Life, hey,
that’s it.

Sometimes the loudest player
isn’t the strongest.
Sometimes the quiet one
is already three moves ahead.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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