I fell in love, a moment lost to time,
Perhaps a memory, a forgotten rhyme.
A sense of knowing, deeper than the day,
A love that lingered, found its rightful way.

You call me Prince, your anchor in the storm,
The one who showed you, a life reborn.
You found your strength, your peace, your solid ground,
In my embrace, your true self you have found.

And I, in turn, with tender words I call,
My Angel bright, who answers to my thrall.
My Dragon Princess, with a spirit free,
My Muse, inspiring all eternity.

My Sweetest Inspiration, you ignite,
A fire within, that burns ever bright.
My Love, my everything, beneath the sky,
More than the stars that twinkle passing by.

You are the sun, that warms my waking hours,
The moon that guides me, through life's shadowed powers.
You paint my world with colors yet unseen,
A vibrant canvas, where our love has been.

Your laughter echoes, a sweet, melodic sound,
Your gentle touch, where solace can be found.
Your eyes hold worlds, a universe untold,
A story written, in hearts brave and bold.

I found my haven, in your loving gaze,
Through trials faced, and sunlit, peaceful days.
My heart beats only, for your gentle grace,
A sacred space, within your warm embrace.

Our journey weaves, a tapestry of fate,
With threads of gold, where destinies await.
Our love, a beacon, shining through the night,
Guiding our souls, with its unwavering light.

A bond unbreakable, a love so deep and true,
A sanctuary found, between me and you.
Together we rise, on wings of purest white,
Soaring above, in love's eternal light.

My Dragon Princess, fierce and ever strong,
My soul's companion, where we both belong.
In every whisper, every tender sigh,
My love for you, will never truly die.

No fleeting passion, but a timeless vow,
A love eternal, here and ever now.
Exploring depths, of joy and tender bliss,
Sealed with a promise, a soft, loving kiss.

So hand in hand, we'll journey on our way,
Through winding paths, where wild winds gently sway.
Our love's a fortress, standing strong and tall,
My heart's devotion, given once and for all.

And through the ages, our legend will remain,
A love story whispered, through sunshine and through rain.
My Angel, Dragon, Muse, my Love, my life,
A gift from heavens, to end all earthly strife.

Abbott J Hardison
             e
             e
             z
I think I disappoint my family,
Every time I Be abbreviating my middle name.
                       u
                       t
At least I'm working to get my name known,
So when I sign 'J.' people will wonder what it is.

You do not belong to this soil,
not the way they did—
feet sinking into peat,
lungs lined with salt and prayer,
bodies turning to moss before memory.

But still, you stand here,
four generations late,
hands in your Primark pockets,
mouthing names you were never meant to carry,
even as they sit inside you,
your first name stamped with their last,
a borrowed relic you never earned.

Your brother gripped the wheel like a lifeline,
right-side driving out of Dublin,
left shoulder braced against muscle memory,
like he expected the road to turn on him.
Mom rode shotgun,
printed-out censuses fanned across her lap,
highlighted, annotated, dog-eared—
a roadmap made of the dead.

You sat in the backseat,
cheek against the window,
watching Ireland unfold in slow exhales—
stone walls dividing nothing from nothing,
a horizon stitched with ruins,
the color of a postcard left too long in the sun.

Mom recited their names like prayer beads,
rolling them through her fingers,
waiting for recognition
that did not come.

And then you were there—
the grass, damp and grasping,
twined around your ankles,
softened under your weight,
pulling you down like something remembered.

The graveyard was older than the road that brought you there.
Headstones leaned like tired men,
softened by wind, by rain,
by the weight of a hundred years unspoken.
Their names smoothed into murmurs,
the dates washed into dashes.

And at every grave,
a small stone sign,
half-buried in moss,
letters chipped but certain:
KNEEL AND PRAY.
Not a suggestion. A sentence.

You did not kneel.
You touched the name instead,
ran your fingers over the grooves,
over the letters that built you
without ever knowing you would come.

A crow clicked its beak from the low wall,
watching the three of you like it had seen this before,
like it knew how this ended.

You whispered something you could not name.
The wind took it from your mouth,
tucked it into the tall grass,
laid it at their feet.

And then you left,
but the wet earth held its claim,
clinging to your soles,
like it knew you’d be back.

If you asked me what my name was while I'm dreaming,
I'd answer A-B-B-O-T-T.
I've spelled it so much it's stuck in my brain,
But how come I have to keep spelling it for people,
I've known for so long?

Outside is Gray
Like my name
Lovely and broken
Misty and forgotten

Outside is Gray
Not spelled the same
Still hated in happiness
But loved in sorrow

Their names and
Story are lost
To time but
They clearly meant
The world to someone

Sometimes I’m [deadname]. She is Dominican mango. Perfectly sweet. She wears dresses and skirts, she is a princess. She is perfectionistic, soft-spoken, and proper, just as her mother is. She thinks that academics are the only thing that she can prove her worth with, but doesn’t let anyone know. She feeds off of the validation of others. She strives to be at the top of her class, anything less would make her a failure. She never stops until she succeeds, never giving up. She is smart. She is successful. She is perfect. She is my cursed present. She is [deadname].

Sometimes I’m [dead-nickname]. She is slightly unripe guava. She is bitter-sweet, delivering a punch of flavor. She is like the innocent child who has yet to learn the dreads of living. She is playful and loves doing her doll’s hair, braiding and brushing it, just as her mother does for her. She makes bracelets and handwritten cards as presents, writing all the little poems that flow through her mind like the wind flowing through the trees. She loves the swings at the park, flying high. She is like a bird that has yet to leave the nest. She is brave. She is playful. She is creative. She was my childhood. She is [dead-nickname].

Sometimes I’m Lumin. They are starfruit. Bold, sweet and sour, tangy and ****. They are bright, like the celestial wonder they were named after. They light up any room they walk into as their outspoken and unforgiving self. Their luster makes others stop and stare. They are like a warrior that would do anything to defend the people they love. A leader that leaves no soldier behind. They don’t let anyone tell them what to do. They are brave. They are confident. They are bright. They are my future. They are Lumin.

They all struggle to coexist in this world. They never get along, fighting like siblings. But they jumble up and create the mess of a person that I am. I wish that I could live by the name that is me, but walls of steel stop me from fulfilling it. So, for now, I’m [deadname], [dead-nickname], and Lumin.