Hope
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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.
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I used to think healing meant forgetting. That one day the memories wouldn’t hurt. The scars wouldn’t ache. The past wouldn’t whisper my name. But maybe healing isn’t becoming someone new. Maybe it’s learning to love the person who survived. The one who stayed. The one who fought. The one who kept choosing tomorrow even…
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Before you, There were storms That carved their names Across my heart. The kind that leave Empty cribs, Silent lullabies, And questions No mother should ever have to ask. Then you arrived. Not to replace what was lost— No child ever could— But to remind me That hope still grows Even in broken ground. You…
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There are storms I’ve survivedthat never made a sound,battles no one witnessedexcept the heart beneath my ribs. Then there was you. Not with fireworks,or promises too big to hold,but with quiet hands,steady eyes,and a kindness that made me wonderif peace could really know my name. You found me carrying piecesI was certain could never fit…
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I hope you’re laughing. I hope your knees are grass-stained, Your shoes are caked with dirt, And your faces ache From smiling too much. I hope you stay up too late, Catch fireflies in your hands, Tell stories that make no sense, And believe this summer Will last forever. I hope you’re making memories. God…
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They call it a custody battle. But battles have finish lines. This feels more likeHolding my breathFor weeks that become months,Waiting for strangersTo decide pieces of our lives. I wake each morningStill their mother.No ruling can change that.No courtroom can eraseThe years stitched into my heart. Some days hope is loud.Some days fear sits beside…
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They gave the monster a name. Not fate. Not chance. Not something I did wrong. A name made of too many syllables and not enough mercy. For weeks, I carried guilt like it belonged to me, turning every memory over in my hands, searching for the moment I thought I had failed you. Then the…
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There are tiny hands that reach for me like I am the safest place in the world. And sometimes they don’t know how heavy my heart has been. They don’t know the battles I fought quietly. The nights I cried without making a sound. The pieces of myself I had to find again. They only…
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I have been broken open more times than I can count. By loss. By love. By goodbyes I never got to prepare for. I have carried storms inside a body that still learned how to hold sunshine. There were days I wondered if I was disappearing. But somehow, between the cracks, something kept reaching upwards.…
Between Bruises and Blooms 