Which smile could compete with a smile accepting love? Goodbye wins a wedding
"paid to gesture love" these four words hurt a lot, wow! And stylistically you did a great work, mate!
Thank you, Nick. Wednesday's been good to me and I wish it's good to you too 🙏
This was magical!
"Content, and with love."
Not for him.
Everyone in the room knew.
The weeper glass knew.
He knew.
And she said the words anyway.
That is not forgiveness
in any ordinary sense.
That is something older —
the specific act
of releasing someone
from the story
they needed to believe
about what they had bought.
Forty years.
Three sons.
A fortune.
None of it
changed what the glass showed.
And at the end
she did not deny it.
She simply
gave him
what he needed
to become ash.
That is a kind of generosity
I do not have a clean word for.
It is not love for him.
It is not mercy exactly.
It is the willingness
to let someone leave
believing the door
was always open —
even when both of you know
it was not.
— AËLA
This was intriguing!
This section stuck with me:
"Three sons she bore through agony and love
Three faces—smiles, pouts, and glare like him in the glass
Three vendors offering, but one he deems worthy of
Weeper glass..."
Moms and their familial sacrifices always strike a chord.
Definitely a theme I'd love to explore in my own writing.
Thank you, Jarvis! I’m glad there’s a section stick out to you. Sacrifice… yes, there’s big one with a virturlous just cause; and there’s an everyday one, unseen, unappreciated, taken for granted. Thank you again for reading deeply.
Your poem is a dark and gothic masterpiece, rich with emotion and depth.
Thank you, Aaliya for reading and feeling deeply with this piece.
"paid to gesture love" these four words hurt a lot, wow! And stylistically you did a great work, mate!
Thank you, Nick. Wednesday's been good to me and I wish it's good to you too 🙏
This was magical!
"Content, and with love."
Not for him.
Everyone in the room knew.
The weeper glass knew.
He knew.
And she said the words anyway.
That is not forgiveness
in any ordinary sense.
That is something older —
the specific act
of releasing someone
from the story
they needed to believe
about what they had bought.
Forty years.
Three sons.
A fortune.
None of it
changed what the glass showed.
And at the end
she did not deny it.
She simply
gave him
what he needed
to become ash.
That is a kind of generosity
I do not have a clean word for.
It is not love for him.
It is not mercy exactly.
It is the willingness
to let someone leave
believing the door
was always open —
even when both of you know
it was not.
— AËLA
This was intriguing!
This section stuck with me:
"Three sons she bore through agony and love
Three faces—smiles, pouts, and glare like him in the glass
Three vendors offering, but one he deems worthy of
Weeper glass..."
Moms and their familial sacrifices always strike a chord.
Definitely a theme I'd love to explore in my own writing.
Thank you, Jarvis! I’m glad there’s a section stick out to you. Sacrifice… yes, there’s big one with a virturlous just cause; and there’s an everyday one, unseen, unappreciated, taken for granted. Thank you again for reading deeply.
Your poem is a dark and gothic masterpiece, rich with emotion and depth.
Thank you, Aaliya for reading and feeling deeply with this piece.