perseverance
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Maybe one day I won’t have to choose between relief and proving myself. Maybe one day healing won’t come with conditions. Maybe one day I’ll light a joint without wondering who might judge the smoke. Until then, I’ll keep choosing the future I’ve been fighting for— one clear morning at a time.
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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…
Between Bruises and Blooms 