Beyond the Sale

-



Love did not ask for a receipt.

It was here before the algorithm learned our names,

before desire was shrink-wrapped

and shipped with same-day devotion.


Every screen insists on roses,

on diamonds rehearsing eternity,

on couples posed like proof-

as if affection needs witnesses to exist.


They sell us passion in curated squares,

teach hearts to perform for applause,

teach longing to pose, smile, and wait

for a double tap to feel real.


But love is not louder when it’s branded.

It is not truer because it trends.


What of the quiet lives-

the hands that reach for no one at midnight,

the beds that remember a body now gone,

the people who love deeply

and are still alone?


They are not lacking.

They are not behind.

They are not unfinished stories.


The world would have you believe

love is something you prove,

something you purchase,

something you display or else explain your absence.


Refuse that lie.


Love is the call you make without posting.

The meal shared with no photograph.

The patience to stay.

The courage to leave.

The kindness offered with no audience.


Love is showing up when nothing is being sold.

It is choosing care in a culture addicted to spectacle.

It is tenderness without packaging,

devotion without a price tag.


So celebrate if you wish.

But do not measure your worth

by a holiday that profits from your doubt.


Your heart is not a marketplace.

Your affection is not a campaign.

Your life does not need a slogan.


Love lives in the unlit places-

steady, unbought, unbranded-

waiting not to be advertised,

but to be lived.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Pond Holds My Name

-
Image
  I stand beside the quiet pond, the world hushed in reverence, the water’s glass smooth, unbroken, a mirror holding what I’ve lost and gained.   Beneath the surface, shadows drift- faint echoes of laughter, whispers of tears, ghosts of who I was and who I’ve become, fading into the depths I dare not touch.   My reflection ripples- not in defiance, but in acceptance, the face unchanged yet somehow altered, bearing stories I’m still learning to tell.   The eyes, familiar, hold a different light- a softer glow of knowing, a quiet acknowledgment of what remains and what has slipped away like water through fingers.   Thoughts drift like leaves- drifting, falling, unhurried- reminding me that growth is slow, that healing is quiet, unseen.   I search the surface for the person I was- the one who believed in tomorrow, who loved without fear, who thought the pain would pass.   But the pond offers only reflection- a truthful, unfil...
Read more

Spring’s Fingers

-
Image
  I feel spring’s fingers brush my skin, Greening softly, slow and sure. Something in me begins to thin, A quiet shift, a gentle cure.   The earth awakens first, then I- A breath, a pause, a tender start, As snow dissolves from tearful sky, And warmth begins to fill my heart.   Bare branches blush against the blue, As if they remember how to hope. From darkened ground, I see me too- A courage rising, broadening scope.   The sun lingers longer in my sky, Its brightness teaches me to grow, That I don’t need permission to fly, Just trust the light that starts to glow.   Birdsongs return to fill my ears, Their melodies reclaim my voice, In softest whispers, shedding fears, Reclaiming choice, reclaiming choice.   Daffodils wake, bold and bright, Tulips lift their painted heads- I learn that joy is mine by right, And color blooms where hope treads.   The river runs more freely now, Reflecting dreams and brighter streams, I let t...
Read more

In Quiet Dreams, We Rest

-
Image
  The night descends in quiet, deep and mild, And soothes my thoughts as one would calm a child. The clamor of the day grows faint and still, As peace, unbidden, bends me to its will. The restless wind lays down its wandering song, The hurried hours no longer press along. All things grow hushed beneath the moon’s soft gleam, And I am drawn into a kindly dream. The moon, in silver majesty displayed, Keeps watch where all my mortal cares are laid; While distant stars, like scattered gems on high, Shed fragile hope across the darkened sky. The forest stands in reverent repose, Its leafy tales no longer seek to close. Each measured breath, both slow and deep and sure, Draws troubled thoughts away, serene and pure. My heart assumes a calmer, steadier grace, As ancient griefs grow weary of their place. What once lay heavy loosens, then departs, Unclaimed at last by unremembering hearts. Between the realms of waking and of sleep, Where tender dreams their silent vigils keep, New visions b...
Read more

The Quiet After You Left

-
Image
  "I didn’t know the word for you. I just knew something was wrong because the house sounded different after you died." The quiet came after you left. Like someone turned down the sound. I didn’t know the word for it then, just that the air felt wrong somehow. The house used to hum a little tune, with you in it, puttering around. Now the hum was gone, replaced by hushed tones and careful steps. The grown-ups talked in low voices, like secrets they didn’t want me to know. They said your name sometimes, then stopped, like catching something forbidden. They told me to be good, and goodness felt like the most important job I ever had. A shield, maybe, against the sadness leaking everywhere. I was good at being good. I folded my little pajamas neat, smoothed out all the wrinkles. I ate the peas, even the ones I hated. I swallowed the lump in my throat, held back the tears that threatened. Their faces were already fragile, like thin glass ready to shatter. I didn’t want to cause mo...
Read more

The Garden Between Us

-
Image
  She blooms, a vine reaching for the sun, And suddenly, the furniture feels wrong, The room itself, a stage rearranged, undone, A silent song of what was lost for long. A different woman, watching from the side, (Perhaps it's you, perhaps it lives in me), Feels a small pinch, where dreams were gently tied, A life unspoken, told it could not be. We learned so young, to line ourselves in rows, To check our height against the girl next door, Safety, they whispered, only truly grows In shrinking down, and wanting nothing more. So when one rises, tall and brightly bold, It stirs a fear, a whisper in the bone, That her success makes our own story told, A little less, a little less our own. I know that feeling, in my own two hands, The urge to soften, dim my vibrant hue, To guard my spot, in these familiar lands, By holding back the grace I owe to you. How easy then, to let that instinct bloom, To spread a chill through silent, judging eyes, To build a wall, a space of shadowed gloom, An...
Read more

A Ledger of Lived Moments

-
Image
  In the depths of my mind, a ledger resides, A place where numbers sleep, and time gently glides. It's not a book of paper, with lines neat and straight, But a feeling, a knowing, sealed by fate. A mental math machine, where numbers abide, From single digits tiny, to figures far and wide. No calculator needed, no buttons to press, Just a hum in my head, a silent finesse. No pencil to guide, no eraser to mend, Just thoughts that connect, that never quite end. My brain's internal clock, a steady, quiet pride, Keeping rhythm and reason, deep down inside. It tracks the passing days, the weeks, the months, the years, A constant, gentle hum, dispelling all fears. It knows when the seasons turn, when spring starts to bloom, And whispers of winter, escaping the gloom. A constant, nagging voice, through joy and through tears, A reminder of moments, both happy and sears. It echoes softly, "Remember this scene," "Recall this feeling, so vivid and keen." It whispers ...
Read more

Daddy Came Home

-
Image
  Dust motes danced in sunlit air, A silent house, a vacant chair. The clock ticked slow, a mournful sound, As shadows stretched upon the ground. We children played, but listless now, A game without a happy vow. Our laughter thin, a fragile thing, Because our hearts forgot to sing. For Daddy lived beyond the sky, Where stars keep watch and angels fly. He once went out to brave the day- Then never found his earthly way. We missed his stories, deep and bright, His arms that held away the night. We missed his smile, so calm, so kind, The gentle strength he left behind. That night I dreamed the lane grew wide, And footsteps brushed the quiet side. A car slowed down, a door swung free, And hope ran fast inside of me. He stood there tall, a little worn, But in his eyes-a brand new morn. His bags fell down, forgotten things, As to his arms, like birds, we sprang. The hug was tight, a gentle squeeze, He smelled of earth and summer trees. His beard was rough, yet soft and warm, A shelter sa...
Read more

In the Silence Between Words

-
Image
  There is a voice beneath the hush, A whisper carved from years of silence, Not fragile, not broken, just unseen- Waiting for the moment to be spoken. / You lean in, but hesitate- Not because I am distant, But because your words are afraid To touch the truth in my eyes. / I am not a shadow hiding behind curtains, Nor a story you tell in passing- I am the echo of your care, The pulse beneath the quiet. / Speak to me, plain and clear, Let the silence be honest, For in your words, I find my strength- Not in the hush that keeps me small. / I am here-whole, waiting, willing- To be seen beyond the whispers, Not a rumor, not a lesson, But a voice that demands to be heard. / And when you finally meet my gaze, You’ll see the quiet resilience- A woman unbroken by silence, Standing tall in her truth.
Read more

The Lake Doesn’t Tell Me Everything

-
Image
 In Kumarakom’s tranquil fields I stand, Beneath the sun’s gentle, warming hand, Yet shadows linger in my mind, A restless heart I cannot unbind.   The lake’s smooth mirror, calm and bright, Reflects a sky of purest light, But depths conceal a silent fear, A whisper dark, too close, too near.   The hum of bees, the rustling leaves, A melody that softly weaves, Yet in their song, I find a trace Of change approaching-an unknown face.   My faith, fragile as fragile can be, A wounded bird, longing to see The world as safe, as true, as kind- But cracks and fissures I find behind.   Memories sting like icy rain, Trust betrayed, a lingering pain, Promises broken, silent pleas, Lost in shadows, on trembling knees.   Life’s dizzy spin, a hurried race, Leaves me grasping for a steady place, To catch my breath, to find my ground, When all around is shifting sound.   My gut, a sentinel, speaks with voice, Warning of danger, of choice-...
Read more

The Unnoticed Grace

-
Image
  Twilight’s hush in, where shadows play, The sky is stitched with silver light. Stars drift above the sleeping day, The scattered diamonds of the night. Great trees stand watch like sentinels old, Their leaves a crown of rustling gold; The wind moves through with unseen grace, A roaming breath in open space. The stars remain while cities race, While lives evolve in measured lines. The world performs its silent grace, Midst hidden truths and unread signs. The sunrise spills its painted flame To chase a dark without a name- A daily miracle made new, Though we may pass it, rushing through. I’ve walked beneath that open sky With hurried feet and distant eyes; I’ve felt the wind go brushing by While heavy thoughts refused to rise. I’ve missed the stars that meant to guide, Ignored the dawn I stood inside, And watched the time slip through my hand While trees remain to bend and stand. Yet when I pause-when I allow The moment space to reach me now- The stars remind me where I belong, The...
Read more