Six years. Six whole years of you
Two little hearts inside your nose,
And I’ve always said it’s because
Mommy and daddy’s love was too strong to hold in one.

You were my miracle before you took your first breath,
And every second since, I’ve fought like hell to keep you safe.
They don’t see the nights I stayed awake,
The tears I swallowed when they tried to take you away
But baby, you’re woven into me,
In every beat of my heart, in every prayer I whisper when I think no one’s listening.

They try to lie on paper like it can rewrite our story,
Like it can erase the bond that time and pain made unbreakable.
But those two little hearts you carry?
They are the proof
the purest kind of love
A love no distance, no silence, no fight can touch.

You are my light when the world feels dark,
My breath when I feel like breaking,
My hope when every door closes.
I want you to know
No matter what they say, no matter what they do
I am here. I am yours.

Forever.

And I will fight
With every scar, every tear, every sleepless night
To hold you close, to keep you safe,
To be the mother you deserve.

My Lilliann Mariee, my baby, my fight,
You are the part of me that will never break.

She glides through midnight like a secret dream,
Board kissing pavement, soul running clean.
Smoke in her hair, stars in her chest,
Tattoo in prophecy
she don't settle, she quests.

No map, just rhythm, she dances through light,
Half street, half spirit, all shadow and flight.
Past in her rearview, no brakes, no lies,
Only the moon ever caught her eyes.

They call her a mystery, lover on wheels,
She left hearts spinning and souls she could steal.
Not out of coldness
just chasing what's true,
The next street, the next beat, the next shade of blue.

Her kicks stay scuffed, but her grace is divine,
A prayer on grip tape, a verse in her spine.
She laughs with the wind, tears don’t last,
She’s not running away, just skating past.

A whisper in alleys, a flash under lights,
You might see her once on one of those nights.
But don’t try to hold her, don’t beg her to stay
She’s prophecy in motion, and she don’t delay.

Broken girl with a mind like a maze,
Autistic soul in a neurotypical haze.
I feel too much, too loud, too deep,
And I’ve lost myself in thoughts I keep.

A lover girl with love to give,
But maybe not the kind they let live.
Stuck in a place where silence screams,
Where nothing's real, not even dreams.

Maybe I was never meant to be loved right,
Just built to pour into others, light after light.
But this weight in my chest feels too much to bear,
And nobody sees me — like I’m not even there.

Who am I now, with a heart so worn?
A girl reborn, but forever torn.
Because when I try to look in the mirror and see,
My vision is foggy
I don’t even see me.

So I write and I breathe and I bleed through this pen,
Hoping to find who I was back then.
But maybe… just maybe… through all this ache,
I’ll find that even broken hearts still wake.

So please,
leave me alone.
This book
my book
is over for you.
You had your chapters.
You played your part.
You saw the mess,
you tasted the light,
but none of you stayed
to see the rebuild.

You had your chance
to love me right,
to pour into me
like I did for you.
But you took and you took
and I still stood.
I still gave.

Now I’m done
repeating cycles
just so others can stay comfortable
while I suffer in silence.

This isn't bitterness.
It’s peace.
It’s boundaries.
It’s me choosing me
for once.

And I don’t wish you pain.
I don’t wish you harm.
I just hope that, one day,
when you’re sitting in your stillness,
you’ll remember the woman
who loved you deeply
even when she was drowning.

And I pray
honestly
that I gave you enough hope
to one day look up
and ask Him,
“Did she end up okay?”

And He’ll say:
"She did. Without you."

Now I’m stuck
on the bathroom floor
knees bruised, cheeks soaked,
whispering, “God, why oh why me again?”
But the truth settles in,
soft and sharp like scripture:
Why not me?

He chose me,
to be a light in the shadows,
even when I flicker,
even when my flame feels faint.
Because even when I’m breaking,
I’m still loving.
Even when I’m bleeding,
I’m still giving.

My heart
no matter how worn,
how torn
won’t stop beating for others.
And God sees that.
He knows the weight I carry
is proof of the warrior I am.

So here I go again
off the floor,
out of the sorrow,
not because I’m healed,
but because I’m called.

Because even a woman like me,
drenched in tears and tired prayers,
can rise with grace,
and walk again
like she was never on the ground.

I forgive like rain,
soft and steady, washing wounds clean
even when they were carved into me.
I pour grace like water into cups
that never once filled mine.

I am the open door,
the light in others’ storms,
the hands that hold,
the voice that soothes
and yet no one stays
to check if I’m still breathing
after the healing is done.

Heaven-sent, they say,
but even angels fall silent
when no one listens to their cries.

I gave pieces of myself
to build bridges, mend hearts,
carry burdens too heavy
for broken backs to hold.
But who sees me?
Who carries me?

I am not weak
no, I’m made of grief and grit,
a woman stitched from suffering
and stubborn hope.
But I am tired.
Tired of being the strong one
in rooms full of silence
when I need saving too.

No one could walk
the warpath I’ve walked
and still offer love with open palms.
No one could break this much
and still want to make others whole.

And that’s the tragedy.
That’s the ache.
Not that I can’t forgive them,
but that I forgot how to choose me.

When too good to be true
Meets the woman with her glass half-empty,
She shuffles from room to room
Quiet footsteps across forgotten floors,
Piecing back the hearts of the wounded,
Wounds only her spirit could truly read.

Darkness was her birth canal,
But somehow, light slipped through the cracks
Not in bursts, but in soft, stubborn glimmers.
She was beauty.
She was strength.
But beneath her ribcage lived the dust
Fragments of battles fought in silence,
Memories she swept under her own smile.

She stitched together the pain of others
Like patchwork faith,
Each tear, each scream she swallowed,
Just to feel a sense of form
A body built from borrowed hope.

Another person’s joy
Was a vapor she inhaled like salvation.
But slowly,
She evaporated into “more”
More for them,
Less of her.

And as she disappeared into the invisible
The muse, the healer,
The one who was always “okay”
No one noticed
How loud it is
When a woman vanishes
Without making a sound.