#strengthinsoftness - Hello Poetry

I saw him today and his face lit up — not just a smile, but recognition, like something deep in him knew I was his. He ran to me arms wide, laugh already bubbling, and when he wrapped himself around my neck the world loosened its grip. We went to the café, shared something small, crumbs on his fingers, mischief in his eyes. He kept leaning into me, huge forever cuddles, like he understood time has edges. And his personality — it’s really coming out now. The cheeky little looks. The dramatic “hi!” to strangers. The way he repeats things just to make me laugh. That confidence growing right in front of me. He’s not just my baby anymore. He’s becoming himself. In that moment the world stopped trying to move us. Chairs scraped somewhere far away, coffee machines hissed, voices blurred into background noise — but none of it reached me. Because he did. The play centre was packed — colour and chaos everywhere — but I only heard his giggles. They rose above everything, bright and fearless. Slides, tiny trainers flashing, him looking back to make sure I was watching. I was always watching. His voice cutting through it all: “Hi!” “Muma!” Like he was proud to say it. Like he wanted the whole world to know. Cheeks lifting when he smiled, eyes shining — bright enough to quiet every doubt I carry. He pressed his forehead to mine, little nose brushing mine — soft Eskimo kisses, slow and certain, like a promise only we understood. He’s taller now. Leaning out. Still with that solid warmth when I lift him — though today he felt light as air, like holding a feather that somehow anchors me. He rested his head on me for a second longer than usual. And I memorised it — the warmth, the weight, the way his fingers curl into my clothes without thinking. For a while there were no accusations, no ticking clocks, no watching eyes. Just us. I wasn’t being assessed. I wasn’t waiting. I wasn’t on the back burner. I was his mamma. Fully. Naturally. Without question. And when I breathed him in, that familiar scent took me back to when it was just us — when the world felt smaller, safer, simple. If I could live inside a moment, it would be this one — his laughter suspended in air, his confidence shining, his little personality unfolding right in front of me. Because in his eyes I am not broken. I am not temporary. I am not a visitor. In his eyes I am home. And even when the hour ends, even when I have to walk away, that version of us — laughing, nose to nose, frozen in light — still lives. It waits. Like something unfinished. Like something certain. Like a door that isn’t closed — just waiting to be opened again. 🤍 — Anonymous_Flame

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Feb 21

Feb 21, 2026 at 2:06 PM UTC

Anonymous_Flame

Home in His Eyes

I saw him today and his face lit up — not just a smile, but recognition, like something deep in him knew I was his. He ran to me arms wide, laugh already bubbling, and when he wrapped himself around my neck the world loosened its grip. We went to the café, shared something small, crumbs on his fingers, mischief in his eyes. He kept leaning into me, huge forever cuddles, like he understood time has edges. And his personality — it’s really coming out now. The cheeky little looks. The dramatic “hi!” to strangers. The way he repeats things just to make me laugh. That confidence growing right in front of me. He’s not just my baby anymore. He’s becoming himself. In that moment the world stopped trying to move us. Chairs scraped somewhere far away, coffee machines hissed, voices blurred into background noise — but none of it reached me. Because he did. The play centre was packed — colour and chaos everywhere — but I only heard his giggles. They rose above everything, bright and fearless. Slides, tiny trainers flashing, him looking back to make sure I was watching. I was always watching. His voice cutting through it all: “Hi!” “Muma!” Like he was proud to say it. Like he wanted the whole world to know. Cheeks lifting when he smiled, eyes shining — bright enough to quiet every doubt I carry. He pressed his forehead to mine, little nose brushing mine — soft Eskimo kisses, slow and certain, like a promise only we understood. He’s taller now. Leaning out. Still with that solid warmth when I lift him — though today he felt light as air, like holding a feather that somehow anchors me. He rested his head on me for a second longer than usual. And I memorised it — the warmth, the weight, the way his fingers curl into my clothes without thinking. For a while there were no accusations, no ticking clocks, no watching eyes. Just us. I wasn’t being assessed. I wasn’t waiting. I wasn’t on the back burner. I was his mamma. Fully. Naturally. Without question. And when I breathed him in, that familiar scent took me back to when it was just us — when the world felt smaller, safer, simple. If I could live inside a moment, it would be this one — his laughter suspended in air, his confidence shining, his little personality unfolding right in front of me. Because in his eyes I am not broken. I am not temporary. I am not a visitor. In his eyes I am home. And even when the hour ends, even when I have to walk away, that version of us — laughing, nose to nose, frozen in light — still lives. It waits. Like something unfinished. Like something certain. Like a door that isn’t closed — just waiting to be opened again. 🤍 — Anonymous_Flame

118

Little do you know How I learned to cry without a sound Little do you know How I stopped expecting you around Little do you know I was breaking while you held your ground Little do you know I needed you that time Beneath the strength I wore to make you proud Was a child still screaming, not allowed Some nights I survived things I’ll never speak aloud Little do you know I needed you that time I stayed, I stayed When your whole world crashed in waves I stayed When you were drowning in your pain I stayed Put myself last, again and again But little did you see No one ever stayed for me Little do you know I carried burdens not my own Little do you know I fought those battles all alone Little do you know The cracks ran deeper than they’d shown Little do you know I needed you that time You call it distance, call it pride But where were you when I was barely alive? You ask for peace, for things to slide Like nothing ever fractured my mind I’ll heal, I’ll heal But healing doesn’t mean it’s sealed I’ll heal It doesn’t make the past unreal I’ll heal And I won’t shrink to fit what you feel Little do you know Love isn’t silence when someone’s low Little do you know Forgiveness isn’t pretending it didn’t show Little do you know I was the first to show And the last to receive What I gave so freely So little do you know I don’t hate you — I’ve just grown Little do you know I found my strength alone And I won’t beg to be seen anymore.

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Feb 20

Feb 20, 2026 at 5:58 PM UTC

She will never know The violence it took To be this gentle.

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Jul 14, 2025

Jul 14, 2025 at 5:19 PM UTC

Ricardo

CALM

She will never know The violence it took To be this gentle.

3