The autumn tree didn’t betray us,
the grass still grows greener.
Fireflies glisten in the same spot,
the one that was once ours.

But I’ve seen them digging,
carving the earth to build—
a tower, a monument, a future
where our past once stood.

They are changing this place,
shaping it into something new.
And though the fireflies still return,
though the autumn tree stands still-
haven’t we changed too?

I don’t believe in God,
but you made me pray to Aphrodite,
whisper to Venus,
call out to Rati in the dark.
Tell me-who else is left?

Your God forbids it, doesn’t He?
But I would rewrite His laws,
tear down His heavens,
if it meant I could have you.

What must I do?
Tell me-what offering is enough?
Is there a ritual beyond bowing at dawn,
a sacrifice beyond surrender?

Or is He simply deaf?
Does He turn away because He knows
He could never love you
the way I do?

They see me with hands on the wheel,
feet steady on the gas,
a woman who conquers,
who builds,
who signs papers with a name they say will mean something.
They speak of my future like prophecy,
a business to run, a world to own.
They dress me in ambition,
in power,
in a suit that doesn’t fit my skin.
The woman I was meant to be.
She stirs sugar into coffee,
presses her lips to a child’s warm forehead,
sits by a window and watches rain make poetry of the streets
Yet their voices are so loud,
so certain,
that I cannot even whisper what I want.
So I nod, I smile,
I let them build this version of me,
one brick at a time,
until I am buried beneath it.
And maybe one day,
I will forget the woman I could have been,
the mother, the homemaker,
the quiet kind of happy
and only remember the one
they never let me become.

I wanted to be a river,
carving my own way through stone,
but the world built dams,
redirected my course,
taught me that freedom has rules.
I wanted to be the artist,
to paint in colors only I could see,
but they handed me a template,
said, "Fill inside the lines."
Every day, I push against the shape
they force me into
and every day, I bend,
just a little
more,
until I wonder if I am still me

You say your heart is broken,
shattered like glass,
too fragile to trust again,
too tired to risk the fall.
But hearts were never meant to stay whole,
they were meant to break
and rise again,
stronger in their cracks.

You guard your heart like a fortress,
afraid to love,
afraid to feel,
but what if love is the only thing
that makes us real?
What if the ache is not a loss,
but the pulse of something new
something worth the risk,
something worth the burn?

If you stop falling,
you stop living,
stop knowing the rush
of a heart wide open.
What are you afraid of?
The hurt?
The grief?
It’s only temporary,
but the love
the love lasts forever.

Fall again,
fall again,
and again.

You tell yourself you’ve moved on,
but I see it in your eyes.
You walk into strangers’ rooms,
looking for something of hers,
and you come out empty,
losing pieces of yourself
with every step you take.

You lie to your skin,
tell it she’s gone,
but your body knows the truth
it remembers the way her name felt
in your mouth,
how her hands fit into yours.

You’re hiding,
running from something you don’t want to face.
Go back to her.
It’s not too late.
Stop pretending you’re okay.
The truth is, you’re still standing at the door
you promised you’d leave behind.

Go back.

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.