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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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Beneath the Quiet Surface of a Wounded Soul #sadpoetry #poetrydaily #poem

Beneath the quiet surface
of a wounded soul,

lie shipwrecks
no one was meant to see.

The world knows the smile.

The practiced nod.

The calm voice
that never trembles.

But it does not know
the darkness sleeping underneath.

It does not know
how many nights
were spent gathering broken pieces
from the floor of despair.

How many times
hope was buried
and resurrected
before the dawn arrived.

There is a graveyard there.

A place where trust lies buried.

Where old dreams
rest beneath nameless stones.

Where the ghosts of betrayals
still wander the corridors
of memory.

Yet I walk among them
without fear.

For I have become familiar
with my shadows.

Pain was once a visitor.

Now it is an old acquaintance.

The wound never truly vanished.

It simply learned
how to wear silence.

And silence
is a dangerous thing.

For rivers run deepest
where the surface appears calm.

Volcanoes sleep peacefully
before they awaken.

And wounded souls
often carry storms
behind gentle eyes.

The darkness within me
is not born from hatred.

It is born from surviving.

From standing alone
when no one stayed.

From learning to breathe
when grief wrapped its fingers
around my throat.

From watching innocence
bleed slowly
into wisdom.

So when you look at me,
do not be deceived
by the stillness.

Do not mistake composure
for an absence of scars.

For beneath this quiet surface
lives a thousand untold battles,

a thousand silent screams,

and a soul
that was shattered so completely

it learned how to forge itself
into something stronger
than the hands
that tried to break it.

And perhaps that is the darkest truth of all:

The deepest wounds
do not destroy a soul.

They transform it.

Into something quieter.

Something heavier.

Something that carries both
the darkness
and the strength
to survive it.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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