You are precisely as my soul remembers you—familiar and unchanged,
Yet somehow distant from what my heart believes you could be. When our souls recognize someone but hesitate to connect,
We must pause or, better yet, swiftly exit through the nearest gate. Our souls carry the memory of past karmic connections,
Familiarity doesn't always mean safety or a genuine bond of love.

We must learn to identify past cycles that are not worth repeating.
Once we have mastered the art of avoiding a repeat of the old drama,
Only then can we move forward with clarity and heal our trauma.

Just as I was about to say my first word,  
my mother slipped a piece of bread into my mouth.  
As I leaned in to confess my love,  
He pressed his warm lips against mine.  
Did they intend to silence my truth?  
Or return affection in their love language?

The wounded CDC buildings, riddled with bullet holes, still stand tall,
More than bricks and glass, they symbolize well-being for us all.
They represent the gold standard—a fusion of science and art,
Safeguarding health and safety, even when resources are taken apart.
To grasp what it truly means to wear a CDC badge,
Serving and protecting, with honor, that's our pledge.
We stood firm, shouldering the increasing weight,
Guarding the safety and well-being of the nation's health.
If breaking the spirit of dedicated workers wasn't enough hurt,
Showering the daycare and workplace with bullets is a punch in the gut.
Our health and well-being represent the most excellent form of wealth,
Yet, the odds of survival are diminishing for the American public's health.
Will this harm everyday people, losing the best in health protection?
They will soon feel the impact, but it may be too late for redirection.

Like bubbles in a glass of untouched soda water, waiting for eager lips to bring them to life,
My passion shrank and sank with shame beneath the weight of your indifference, fizzling away into oblivion.
The bouquet of roses, I had carefully picked out to greet you,
Lost its fragrance as the aging petals crumbled into dark dust.
Every time I lit a candle, its flickering light became a constant reminder of the lingering question: Why wasn't my light enough?

My story began like many tales of first love.
You held immense power over me,
First, turning me into a modern-day Cinderella,
Only to cast me aside,
Leaving me in shattered fragments, rattling me to my core,
Shaking the trust and future we had envisioned together.

Yet, from this heartbreak came my transformation from a fallen princess to a radiant queen.
I painstakingly rebuilt myself, layer by layer, to be soft, adaptable, rooted, and compassionate, on a strong foundation of self-love.
Now, I stand tall, radiating the brilliance of my inner light.
Unburdened by anxiety or fear, I fully embrace the new beginning.

The gentle, yet piercing glow of the full moon casts a soft light,  
Like a caring mother, watching over our well-being.  
It gently peels away the layers we hide behind,  
Revealing both our beauty and flaws,  
Forcing us to confront the self-inflicted wounds we keep alive,  
Pain that dims the brilliance of our inner light.  
It encourages us to release the burdens that are not ours to bear.  
We begin to recognize rejections for what they truly are:
Disguised protections.
It nudges us to stop longing for what isn't ours,  
And to let go of what doesn't reciprocate our giving,
Softening the walls that block the exchange of light.
The moon then steps back, giving us space to heal,  
Returning month after month,  
Waiting for us to come into our full light.

Reflecting on that ambivalent experience,
from long ago,
I realized our encounter was neither a story
nor a moment deserving ink.
It was simply a dare
between the inhabitants of two distant islands.

Drawn by a dreamy summer breeze,
We ventured out against the waves,
to share a forbidden touch,
then quickly retreated to the safety of our shores,
returning to our prescribed paths,
to never give it another thought.

It was a mutually agreed-upon contract,
leaving no room for confusion,
formed even before the idea of,
crossing those waters tempted our hearts.
Like water under the bridge.