Flor de Muerto, I wanted to fade into the soil,
where I could touch the roots of Azucena,
before I bury myself six feet deep,
hoping to inhale the fragrance of her grace.

Even if I bury myself to the grave,
Azucena would bloom through my ribs.

I don’t want Flor de Muerto to take root in my heart,
I long to pray, to kneel
but the world has made me a god,
one I never asked to be.

Let me grow my hair,
so you won’t trace the ***** of my collarbone
like it was shaped for your gaze.
Let me drown my arms in fabric,
so a stranger’s fingers won’t twitch with hunger,
so no one will say I was asking for it.

It’s just a hand,
just a hand-
but I didn’t know a piece of me
could call out in silence,
could summon wanting
I never invited in.

Let me disappear under long sleeves,
let me vanish in loose folds,
so you won’t see the curve of my waist
and blame me for your craving.
Let me hide every inch of skin,
as if my body were a lock
and your desire the only key.

I have done everything.
Now tell me-what more should I give?
Should I carve away the flesh,
peel myself down to bone,
so you will finally see
what keeps me awake at night?

Should I hold out my wrists,
let you read the stories
written in fine white lines?
Should I turn my face,
so you can study the hollows,
the weight beneath my eyes,
the proof of all the nights
I have battled myself?

I want you to see-
to see beyond the skin,
beyond the body,
beyond the hourglass frame
that cages me inside your fantasies.

I want you to know
that I am more.
I am the ache in my own chest,
the breath I hold between words,
the voice that breaks but still speaks.

Don’t just crave my skin.
See me.

Are you the tree in the graveyard,
or the fallen star I search for in the sky?
You said the sky was the limit
can you see me now, soaring beyond your reach?

I search for you in the faces of ghosts
I once feared to face.
Do you follow me,
as I follow the trace of your steps?

Do you see me in the sun,
its light burned into my eyes
eyes that are yours,
but carry a void you left?

Is it you in the fog,
holding me close when I can't breathe?
Am I drowning in it,
or is it your arms that won’t let go?

Do you hear my cry,
echoing in the thunder’s roar
a sound that's very similar to yours
now swallowed by the storm?

If i get the chance again,
I'd ghost the whole world to admire your eyes.
I'd fight against Poseidon to stop the wave that separated us.
I'd climb Mount Olympus to reach your heart,
Like Hermes, I'd be swift and smart.
I'd call upon Apollo to light our way.
I'd soar like Icarus, reaching new heights,
With the love of Aphrodite.
I'd make all the Greek gods envy us

He said it was your fault
the way you smiled too often at strangers,
the way your dress clung to your skin,
the way you spoke your mind
like it wasn’t meant to be silenced.


He said you were too much,
too loud, too free,
too wild to be loved by someone like him.
So he let his hands wander elsewhere
and called it your mistake.


He blamed you for the nights he disappeared,
for the silence he left in his wake,
for the guilt that crept into his voice
when you asked where he’d been.
He told you it was your laugh
too careless, too inviting,
like you wanted to be replaced.



But it wasn’t you
who forgot what love was made of.
It wasn’t you
who kissed someone else
and washed the taste down with excuses.



He blamed you because it was easier
than admitting he was small.
He blamed you because your strength
was the mirror to his weakness.



It wasn’t the dress,
it wasn’t the smile,
it wasn’t your beauty that broke him.
It was him
his hollow heart, his cowardice,
his inability to hold something real.


And you still sit in the ruins,
asking yourself what you could’ve done.
But the answer was never yours to give.
He was broken before he touched you,
and nothing you did could’ve changed that.


So let him carry the weight of his lies,
let him drown in the shame he tried to hand you.
You are not the cracks in his ******>ry.
You are the foundation he never deserved.

I had a white house,
perched near the coffee shop,
where the bees moved so gently
that even time forgot them.
I’d sit by the window,
counting the hours until my children’s laughter
spilled into the walls,
their footsteps filling the hollows of my day.
But then the alarm rings-5 a.m. sharp-
pulling me back to the hum of a life
I do not belong to.

The city rises around me,
a sea of faces I no longer recognize.
I search for eyes
that see beyond the shape of me,
past the weight I carry in silence.

I come home to this house,
perfect in the way magazines promise life should be,
the kind people long for,
and yet it feels foreign,
like I am trespassing in my own dream.

Why is it that I still search for home
in the breath of someone who doesn’t exist

Forgive yourself
like the ocean forgives itself
for the wreckage it leaves
after a storm.

It crashes, it swallows,
it pulls away
and then it rests,
silent and still.

The tornado does not regret
its violence against the birds,
it only moves
until the wind calms.

Sometimes we destroy what we love,
tear apart the world
with words and silence
but we also heal with the same hands.

You are the storm
and you are the calm
you are the force
that pulls and the one that lets go.

Forgive yourself
for the hurt you’ve caused
and for the parts of you
that have been broken.