Some promises are not meant to shine.

They are meant to last.

Obsidian Promises moves between night and morning, between myth and the kitchen sink, to ask a simple, difficult question: what happens to devotion when no one is watching?

This poem does not trust grandeur. It tests love where it is most likely to fail—in tired mornings, in small lies that sound reasonable, in the temptation to want less.

What remains is not romance, but resolve.

The vow here is not spoken loudly. It is kept quietly, in direction rather than declaration. And that is why it holds.

Read the full poem and analysis tomorrow 09th: https://alkonda.com/2026/02/09/obsidian-promises/

© Al Konda · The Poetry Elite