Between Bruises and Blooms
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There are names the wind remembers,Even when the world grows still.Some children stay in photographs,Some live beyond the hill. You were only ours for moments,Yet forever you’ll remain.Not only in our memories,But in our joy and pain. Your brothers and your sistersWill know your gentle light,Because love does not stop existingSimply because you’re out of…
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They’ll always have an opinion. Too loud.Too quiet.Too broken.Too healed.Too honest.Too much. They’ll call art a wastebecause they cannot seethe pieces of my soulpressed between the lines. They’ll ask why it doesn’t rhyme,as though painhas ever followedsomeone else’s rules. They’ll laugh at the wordsthat kept me breathing,dismiss the pagesthat carried mewhen nothing else could. They’ll…
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They speak in easy sentences,as though motherhoodis measured by a single meal. A chicken nugget.A bedtime missed.A moment caughtwithout the thousandthat came before it. They don’t countthe mornings I rosebefore the sun remembered my name.They don’t countthe tiny hands reaching,the tears I soothed,the stories I readfor the hundredth time. They don’t carrythe grocery bags,the sleepless…
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I never stopped loving you,Not through the silence,Not through the waiting,Not through the miles that weren’t measured in distance. Love isn’t always foundIn perfect timing.Sometimes it’s foundIn hope that refuses to fade. I dream of ordinary things—Coffee growing cold,Tiny hands reaching for us,A home filled with laughter instead of longing. Until then,I’ll keep believingThat broken…
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They say a mother is born with her child,But mine was forged in storms. In hospital lights,In whispered prayers,In fear that stole my breath. She was bornWhen I chose courageEven while shaking. She was bornWhen exhaustion became routine,And love became instinct. She was bornHolding babies with one arm,And holding herself together with the other. I…
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I didn’t quit because I stopped needing it. I quit because tiny hands needed me more. There are nights when sleep still hides, when food still tastes like cardboard, when anxiety paces the hallway inside my mind. And sometimes I remember the little green flower that once taught my lungs how to breathe again. But…
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I carried two heartbeats beneath my own,Two tiny souls I’d never known.They danced in silence, side by side,Growing safely deep inside. One arrived with morning’s light,The other fought with all her might.A winding path, not as we’d planned,But love still held each little hand. Now laughter fills the quiet air,Tiny smiles beyond compare.The sleepless nights,…
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You didn’t ask to become my favorite thought. You just did. Slowly. Like sunrise. Like fire that doesn’t realize it’s burning the whole forest until everything is glowing. Now every version of tomorrow wears your face. Every dream borrows your voice. And every piece of me that once knew how to be alone… Doesn’t remember…
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I used to think poems were made of metaphors. Turns out… They’re made of people. Of the ones who leave fingerprints on your soul without ever touching it. Now every page starts with your name, even when I don’t write it. Every ending sounds like hope. And every love poem is just another way of…
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If you knew how often I reached for my phone just to see your name… Would it scare you? Or would you smile, knowing someone’s heart has learned the rhythm of your existence? I carry you like a favorite secret. Not hidden. Protected. Because some things are too beautiful to leave in careless hands.
Between Bruises and Blooms 