𝕷𝖔𝖕𝖊'𝖘 𝕿𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘

Posts

Showing posts with the label heartbreak

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”?...

Where I Kept You #lovepoetry #freeverse

It is inside my thoughts that I have hidden you, a silent chamber where your name still lingers like perfume on forgotten air. You left your mark upon my heart, not lightly, not gently, but deep enough to become a wound that refuses mercy. A scar that does not close, because love once lived there, and it lived fiercely. Life moves forward. It does not pause for broken things. Morning still rises, streets still fill with strangers, laughter still finds its way to my lips. Yet beneath it all, There is an ache That time has failed to silence. Memories keep digging, relentless, uninvited. They unearth your voice, your touch, the warmth we once called forever. They replay what was as though it never truly ended. And though we walked away, though distance claimed what love once held, you remain. Not in my hands, But in my mind. An echo that stays awake, a presence that does not fade, a memory still alive in the quiet corners of my thoughts. For love may have passed, and seasons may have chan...

Where Silence Took Your Place In Love #poem #sadlove #breakup

Break-ups do not shatter in a single sound, they press down slowly, a steady weight upon the chest, as if the air itself has thickened With everything we can no longer say. Silence arrives first. It stretches across the room, pulls the curtains closed, replaces the easy rhythm of familiar voices and shared breath. Where warmth once lingered, stillness settles in its place. The ordinary becomes unbearable, empty chairs, a phone that does not light up, the absence of a name once spoken without effort. Loss grows loud in its quietness, a constant awareness that something sacred has slipped away. Two hearts, once aligned, Now beat alone. Loneliness does not shout, it hums beneath the skin, a low reminder of what love once sounded like. Some words never found daylight: Forgiveness withheld, truths swallowed by pride, “I’m sorry,” resting on the edge of almost. They linger between us, unfinished sentences with no ending. And so we face the road ahead, not together, but side by side one ...

I'm Feeling Cold #freeverse #sadpoetry #heartbreak

I am feeling cold, yet no frost crowns the fields, no winter wind bruises the air. The sun stands indifferent above me, and still my skin trembles as though exiled into snow. It is not the season. It is the silence. The air around me crackles with unspoken verdicts, with glances sharpened into quiet blades. Goosebumps rise not from weather, but from the nearness of disdain. I do not know, am I wrong? Am I the fracture in this fragile house? Or merely the mirror no one wishes to face? Hatred hangs like invisible mist, entering my lungs without permission. A helping soul—once open-palmed, now stands unanswered. My offered kindness returns unopened, as though compassion itself were contraband. Good deeds, once planted with trembling hope, have been uprooted, their memory erased as if they had never dared to bloom. Blood became water. Thinned. Diluted. Unrecognizable. Those who share my name look upon me as though I have trespassed against some sacred code. Their eyes pronounce sentence wi...

The Reckoning of Mirrors #sadpoetry #freeverse #poem

Behold, when the sovereign of self-regard finds his empire of glass undone, and the mirror—once obedient, splinters beneath the weight of truth. His tears awaken then. Not of contrition, nor of humbled grace, but of wounded vanity, bleeding from the fracture of his own illusion. He, the architect of tender devastations, harvester of borrowed devotion, moved through hearts as though they were provinces to conquer, leaving famine where he once feasted. No tremor touched him then. No midnight conscience gnawed at his repose. He baptized cruelty as necessity, perfumed manipulation as charm, and enthroned himself in the cathedral of his own reflection. But Karma, ancient and incorruptible, keeps her vigil beyond applause. She writes in invisible ink, inscribing consequence into the marrow of time. When she descends, it is not with fury, but with inevitability. The admirers dissolve like mist. The echo of praise decays into silence. The throne reveals itself as scaffolding. And there, amid t...

I Never Cared #sadpoetry #heartbreak #breakup #freeverse

Don’t be naïve. Do not dress this ruin in silks of misunderstanding. There was no hidden tenderness here, no buried cathedral of feelings, waiting to be discovered. I never cared. Not in the way you deserved, not with a pulse that quickened at your name, not with a soul rearranged by your presence. I never loved you. What you mistook for warmth was rehearsal. What you held as promise was practice. I was only passing through, a traveller pausing at a lit window, borrowing its glow without intention of staying. A practice was needed. So was I. I tried on affection like a garment before a mirror, tilted my head to study how concern might look if it belonged to me. I learned the lines, the softened voice, the attentive silence, the careful reach of my hand toward yours. But the truth, unyielding as winter, remains: I never cared. Not when you spoke of forever. Not when your eyes searched mine for something deeper than reflection. There was nothing cruel in me, only emptiness, a hollow room...

Master of Pretence #poem #heartbreak #breakup #sadlove

The master of pretence, You called him your lover. He moved through your heart like a grandmaster over polished squares, measuring silence, calculating weakness, seeing not you, but position. You were never a queen in his kingdom, never the fierce diagonal of power. You were a pawn, advanced when useful, sacrificed when convenient, praised only when it served his endgame. His smile was strategic. His touch, a tactic. Even his apologies were rehearsed openings designed to keep you in play. And you, you mistook the game for destiny. You called manipulation a mystery, called red flags roses, called his absence depth. Wake up from this velvet slumber. The board was never sacred. It was staged. Cheating runs in his veins like inherited instinct, deception in his bloodstream, betrayal of his pulse. He does not stumble into lies; He breathes them. Real love does not exist in his constructed world. There, affection is currency, loyalty is leverage, and hearts are trophies arranged on invisible...

The Game You Thought I Can't Play #breakup #heartbreak #sadlove

I noticed the thirst on your arrival before you ever spoke my name. You did not come bearing love, You came carrying absence, a well with no bottom, a hunger dressed in wounded light. Your stories. Ah, those fragile, trembling fables, stitched from borrowed sorrow, perfumed with practiced despair. You have wandered before, Haven’t you? Sipping from gentle souls until they ran dry. You thought I would open like the others. Thought I would gather your broken glass and bleed for the privilege. But I saw the seams. From the first tremor in your voice, from the way your eyes calculated while your mouth confessed, I knew this was a theatre. A story. And so — I performed too. I softened my gaze. I tilted my head in mercy. I let you believe I was unraveling. All the while I was mapping you. This was never love. It was a strategy. A board between us, black and white truths, where every word was a move and every silence a trap. A game. You mistook my quietness for foolishness, and for a vacancy....

Fear Wrapped in Pride #sadpoetry

Fear wears a crown and calls itself pride, Standing tall on borrowed authority. Its voice is loud, its heart is hollow, A drum of dominance beating over silence. Before you stands an educated wife, A mind refined, a spirit awake, Yet you bind her brilliance with invisible chains, Turning partnership into quiet captivity. You speak to her as though she were unthinking clay, As though her eyes do not witness your cruelty, As though her mind does not measure every lie You dress in love and discipline as care. You reprogram devotion into obedience, Not from strength, but from terror, The terror that she may rise beyond you, That her light might expose the smallness you hide. So you shrink her world to soothe your wounds, Mistaking control for leadership, Confusing fear with respect, And dominance with worth. Your insecurity learns the language of narcissism, A mirror polished only for yourself, Where her reflection is erased, And only your fragile image remains. Know this: pride built on f...

When Love Turns to Pretence #sadlove #heartbreak #freeverse

If your interest fades, do not dress it as love, Do not wrap distance in smiles and borrowed gifts, I do not want offerings meant to confuse my heart Or gestures rehearsed to keep me quiet. Step aside with honesty, not performance, Let your silence speak plainly, Tell me when you are finished So I may stop waiting for what no longer comes. Do not pretend affection where none exists, I would rather face the truth barehanded Than to be held by a lie That slowly teaches me to doubt myself. If you are done, say it without cruelty, I will not beg, I will not chase, I will open my hands, release you gently, And let you go with my dignity intact. © 2026 Gloria Penelope

Hear Me Before You Judge #sadpoetry

You never listened to my truth, Only the echo that pleased the room, Never the voice that trembled alone In nights that refused to end. You did not witness the hours without sleep, Where darkness rehearsed my memories, Where trauma breathed beside me, Heavy, intimate, impossible to escape. You never felt the weight of betrayal, The slow corrosion of trust, How disdain sharpens itself quietly And settles deep within the chest. What I carried would have shattered you It taught me endurance the hard way, Bending my spirit into survival While the world mistook silence for ease. Wake from the slumber of comfort, From the blindness of distance and ease, Set down your certainty and listen All I ask is to be heard. © 2026 Gloria Penelope

Invisible Wound #sadpoetry #freeverse #poem

I ache as though pierced by steel, yet my body stands unbroken, no blood to testify, no scar to translate the suffering. The wound lives where eyes cannot reach a silent hemorrhage of the heart. My chest carries a constant unrest, a grief that refuses sleep. Peace has fled my inner chambers, leaving behind a hollow echo where hope once knelt and breathed. My soul is not shattered in violence, but dismantled slowly, piece by piece, by hands skilled in quiet harm. I was spent like something disposable, used, then discarded without ceremony, my worth measured only by how much could be extracted from me. Compensation came as crumbs of mercy, food offered not as respect, but as one feeds the forgotten, as though I were a stranger to dignity, homeless beneath the roof of my labor. What a merciless master you were, to turn authority into cruelty, to confuse command with ownership, and power with the right to diminish. Yet even now, unseen and aching, I carry what you could not consume: ...

What He Called "Love" #sadpoetry #heartbreak #freeverse

He named it love, Yet it came hollow, a vow without a body, a season that refused to bloom. No flowers bent toward her name, no time carved deliberately, no shared sunlit hours where footsteps learn from each other. He kept her hidden in the margins, visited only when he wanted to. His tenderness was selective a door he opened only inward. He drank from her presence, fed on her patience, mistook her silence for consent, her loyalty for an endless supply. Love, in his hands, was free access to her. not devotion, no witness. He touched her life without ever standing in it. But her eyes learned the truth of him: How affection can imitate warmth while harboring cold intent, Cruelty sometimes wears kindness like a borrowed coat. So she left quietly, not from weakness, but from clarity. She folded her love back into herself, rescued it from misuse, and carried it forward, unbroken. He never heard the sound of her leaving, only the absence where she once stood. And in that silence, His ...

The Unearthed Psalm #sadpoetry

Life descends upon me as if my name carries a hidden indictment, a sin whispered into the marrow of my being Before I learned how to stand. Each dawn arrives already sharpened, prepared to wound without explanation. There is a secret ache lodged within me, a quiet inhabitant of flesh and bone. It burrows deeper with each passing day, unbaptized by mercy, teaching my body the vocabulary of suffering one pulse at a time. I ask why until the word thins to breath. It rises toward Heaven, only to fall back upon my chest, unanswered, as though the sky has chosen silence as its final language. My prayers gather like unsent confessions, stacked at the altar of waiting. I kneel daily, voice frayed, wondering if God is listening Or if faith is simply learning How to endure being unheard. Still, I do not abandon the floor of prayer. Hope limps, but it remains. My soul stays open, not from strength, but from exhaustion that refuses to die. I ask now only for mercy not clarity. For heali...

Karma will wear the face of Love #sadpoetry #freeverse #heartbreak

Do not treat women like garments of passing seasons, tried on in mirrors of desire, discarded when the fit demands effort. A heart is not fabric It remembers every hand that pulls it apart. You mistake change for freedom, variety for power, leaving pieces of yourself in every soul you bruise. What you call moving on is really a debt, quietly piling up. Karma is patient. It does not shout. It writes your name into the marrow of time, counts every hollow promise, weighing every careless touch. One day, love will come to you without tenderness, a reflection sharpened, " karma. " giving back what you practiced. No mercy, no warning, Only balance restored. This is life. It bends toward truth no matter how you twist it. So stop sculpting your fate with borrowed hearts, let it harden into a shape you cannot escape. © 2026 Gloria Penelope

When Love Is Turned Into Chains #poem #sadlove

She said “I do” with hopeful eyes, Believing in love, not hidden lies. She couldn’t see the mask he wore, A gentle face, a heart at war. A narcissist in tender skin, Where love grows thin, and control begins. His touch was sharp, his silence loud, Fear wrapped her like a heavy cloud. His hands carried unspoken pain, His words fell hard like bitter rain. She bled inside where none could see, A quiet loss of who she’d be. Yet through the hurt, a truth came through: The cost of staying was her too. And in that wound, she found her plea To choose herself, to be set free. © 2026 Gloria Penelope

A Sermon of Storms #sadpoetry #heartbreak

Indeed, life is a mystery untold, I was once a happy soul, Walking freely in a dream-made world, My laughter light, my heart made whole. Then came a tornado dressed in calm, With velvet words and gentle tone, Preaching love like a church-bound psalm, Quoting verses not his own. He spoke in faith, he spoke in fire, As pastors do before the choir, Each promise lifted me up higher, Each vow wrapped sweetly around desire. I believed the prayers he learned to say, Mistook his voice for something true, Until his tongue tore faith away And left my heart in shattered view. What a devil incarnate walking in this land, Wearing grace like a borrowed skin, Breaking souls with a lover’s song, Calling a betrayal “love” and calling a sin “amen.” Now I stand where ruins lie, Wiser beneath a broken sky For storms that preach and angels lie Are the cruelest truths life lets pass by_ © 2026 Gloria Penelope

Born Alone, turned into a slave #sadpoetry #poem

Born alone, she entered a silent world, An orphaned cry swallowed by dust and fate. Her mother’s warmth was buried too soon, Left behind in the hands of cruelty, Where love was rationed and mercy unknown. She wears happiness like borrowed skin, A fragile disguise stitched with forced smiles. Her laughter is an echo she learned to fake, While her heart bleeds quietly, Layered with scars no one asks to see. Each day is a sentence without a crime, Hands that serve, knees that bend, A life mistaken for duty, A child turned servant, A soul chained to daily torture and invisible slavery. At night, she whispers dreams to the dark, Dreams of freedom that tremble but refuse to die. She longs to breathe without fear, To exist without apology, To live beyond survival. What a world she’s living in. One that tests the innocent, That hardens hearts and calls it normal. Yet somewhere within her wounded chest, Hope still stirs… Quiet, stubborn, and waiting to be free. © 2026 Gloria Penelope

Unseen Seeds of the Future #poem #sadpoetry

In the heart of the poorest African villages and in forgotten corners of the world life rises heavier than we imagine, harder than words we use from comfort. There live children who have never known a school bell, never traced letters on a clean page, never sat beneath a roof built for learning and hope. They grow where survival is the syllabus, where hunger teaches first, where water is carried before dreams, and childhood ends early without anyone calling it a loss. They do not know the promise of a good life, not because they lack ability, but because opportunity never found their path. Talent sleeps in dust, genius walks barefoot, potential is buried beneath routine. Even now— in this modern world of screens and satellites— These children remain unseen, unheard, as if progress forgot to knock on their doors. Who knows what they were meant to become? Doctors without books, engineers without tools, leaders without classrooms, minds meant to heal and build the future. If only th...

Young Village Wife #poem #sadpoetry #heartbreak

They named her their daughter-in-law. before she learned her own name. Marriage found her young, not as a choice, but as a destination already decided. Her hands were trained before her mind was asked. Sweep. Cook. Obey. Fetch water before sunrise, carry firewood before thought. This is the alphabet she was taught. Village dust settled into her thoughts, not because she lacked vision, but because no one let her look past the hills. Days repeat like commands— live, work, sleep, repeat— a body moving on borrowed instructions. She lives under rules that never asked her consent. Love is a duty. Silence is respect. Endurance is praised as strength. She moves like a machine that never learned it could choose its direction. The city is a rumor. Education, a foreign language. Opportunity, a story told to other women, in other words, with better luck at birth. And yet— this is the cruelest part— No one knows what she could have been. No one tested her mind. No one stretched her curiosity. No on...