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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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This Curse, I walk with It #sadlove #heartbreakpoetry #sadpoetry

She came into my life like quiet light,
not loud, not demanding,
just steady,
just real.

A presence that softened the sharp edges in me,
a warmth I did not earn,
a grace I did not understand.

But I was not built for gratitude then.

I saw her kindness as something to use,
something to take,
something that would always remain
no matter how I treated it.

I never looked at her with honest eyes.
Never stood before her with a clean heart.
Every word I gave was half-shadow,
every promise carried the weight of deceit.

I thought I was clever.
I thought I was in control.

Greed grew in me like a sickness,
slow at first,
then consuming.
I wanted more than I deserved,
more than I needed,
more than she could give
without breaking.

And still… she stayed.

That was the cruelest part.

She stayed while I twisted something sacred
into something hollow.
She stayed while I turned her presence
from blessing
into a burden.

Until one day,
she didn’t.

And the silence she left behind
was louder than anything I had ever known.

Now I walk with it.

This weight.
This curse.

It follows me in the quiet hours,
whispers in the dark,
echoes in every empty space
where she used to be.

I see her in things I cannot touch,
in moments that should feel whole
but collapse under memory.

I hear what I said,
what I didn’t say,
what I should have meant.

And it does not leave me.

It will not leave me.

Because I know,
this is not punishment without reason.
This is the consequence breathing beside me.

A reminder that I took something pure
and stained it with selfish hands.

A reminder that blessings
do not return once broken.

And still…

somewhere beneath the ruin,
there is one truth that burns:

This curse will not loosen its grip,
will not quiet its voice,
will not release my name

until I stand before her,
not as I was,
but as I should have been,

and speak the words
I was too empty to say

when she was still mine to lose.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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