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...
They speak of love
as if it were a kingdom,
a crown worn proudly,
a ruler of the heart.
But not in my world.
In my world,
no throne was built for it,
no anthem sung in its name,
No flag raised in its honor.
They call it destiny,
a force that bends the soul,
a strange, glowing gravity
that pulls lives into its orbit.
But not in my world.
It never walked my streets,
never knocked on my door,
never breathed within my walls.
They say it conquers reason,
that it sweetly deceives,
turning wisdom into whispers
and strength into surrender.
But not in my world.
It never lived to rule me.
It never rose to guide my steps.
It never played a role
to quietly fool me.
Others may kneel before it,
may build their lives around its flame.
But in my world,
love was always just a story.
a strange, distant something
that never learned my name.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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