Hands in the dirt at 5am, can’t sleep again
The birds aren’t even up, just me and my breath
Breaking up ground that’s been frozen for years
Nothing planted yet, just making space for whatever comes next

They say bloom where you’re planted but I’m not a flower
I’m the earth that holds or doesn’t, I’m the rain
Five winters in a row now, or maybe it’s just one long one
Can’t tell anymore, it all feels the same

I am the season, not the spring
I am the breath, not the song I sing
I’m not waiting for the garden to grow
I am the season, and seasons go slow

Coffee gets cold while I’m working the soil
Finding things I buried without meaning to
Old lists, old dreams, old versions of me
Brush them off gentle, set them aside, continue

Everyone’s blooming on my timeline
Posting their flowers, their fruit
I’m just here humming off-key
To keep my hands company
While they learn a different truth

I am the season, I am the ground
I am the silence between sounds
Not the harvest, just the space between seeds
I am the season, the season is all I need

Not everything grows
Not everything should
I’m learning to tend
What never blooms
And finding it good 

i don’t get to dim my light
because you don’t know how 
to turn on your own 
that’s not my fucking problem

(that sounds like a you problem)

so i’ll glow how i need to
dream as high as i want to
this light’s mine to use

you came with your bottle
thinking you could trap my shine

(this is all you get)

but light don’t work like that
it breaks through glass
reflects and refracts
makes rainbows from your cage

so find your own switch
to ignite your own light
i’ll be here shining brighter
through the bottle you gave me

turned your prison to a prism
because i get to choose
how bright i burn
i choose - not you

be well and be gone

the trees stood
with wet hair,
leaves heavy as towels
still warm from rain.

they shook once
and settled,
still holding
the storm’s breath.

you showed me
how small a world can get
when you build your own bars

i learned to shrink
make myself quiet
around your storms
sidestep your claws
try not to wake
whatever beast lived in you

you never looked
for the key
never tried to leave

we grew up
out of reach
watching you pace
hoping for change
leaving the door open

sometimes
i still hope
you find a way out
that you let yourself
be free

we’re not just one thing.
every day, another side turns to the light:
imperfect, uncertain, new.

let yourself shift.
you’re allowed to be every version
you need.

i pour disappointment
over ice
let it sting
let it chill
as old lessons rise
with every bitter sip.

heartache has a flavor
not sweet, just sharp—
cold.

tonight i drink to something harder:
not letting "no" become my truth
not giving validation the final word.

i raise my glass to being enough
here, even without the win
and let it reflect me right back.

Promised in a dream
Are you still coming
Thoughts of you they gleam
Heartstrings humming

I promise you
I want you more than anything
I promise you
Forever’s what I’m offering

Echoes in the night
Stars are listening
Holding you so tight
Eyes are glistening

I promise you
I want you more than anything
I promise you
Forever’s what I’m offering

Echoes in the night
Stars are listening
Holding you so tight
Eyes are glistening

I promise you
I want you more than anything
I promise you
Forever’s what I’m offering

Whispered on a breeze
Waiting quietly
Gentle moments freeze
Till you’re here with me

the monster lives in my head
not under my bed.
it wants my confidence for breakfast,
uses my peace of mind for mattress,
and pulls the blanket of doubt
tight across my chest.

it’s quiet when others are near,
but it sings when i’m alone.
a tune made of shame
and questions left open.

some days, i shrink to feed it.
some days, i dare to starve it.

and on the rarest days
i remember
it isn’t me.

wake up
don’t think
just move
don’t blink

heart says:
wait
mind says:
go

i’m at the desk
before i’m me
every day
on repeat

i’m at the desk
before i’m me
how long now
till i can breathe?

same song
new day
same steps
no say

body says:
slow
but i still go

i’m at the desk
before i’m me
every day
on repeat

i’m at the desk
before i’m me
how long now
till i can breathe?

before i’m me…
before i’m me…
before i’m me…

every morning,
my heart asks for stillness.
my arms beg not to reach.
my body says: 
stay.
slow.
just a little longer.

but my mind has already
written the to-do list
before i open my eyes.

my legs obey.

i find myself at the desk
before i find myself at all.

i know i’m losing something
in this daily race:
a presence,
a pulse,
a part of me i only meet
in stillness.

and every day i wonder:
how long can i keep moving
without ever arriving in me?

last week,
the cards laid me bare:
the weight I carry,
the fog I’ve walked through,
the fire I’m becoming.

nine wands:
still standing.
tired, but awake.

the moon said:
you’ve doubted your own knowing.

the sun answered:
you were never lost,
just waiting to see yourself fully.

and now,
the emperor.

not a ruler out there,
but a voice within:
this is your life.
lead it.

halfway here,
i turned around
afraid of what i’d see.

the path behind me
was built with effort,
not ease.

i lived with direction.
with grit.
always arriving.

but not at joy.

my inner child is tired.
she wants mornings
without armor.

so i offer her this:
a pause,
a promise,
a way forward
that feels like light.

when it rains in miami
i wanna go outside
you can smell the sea
through the palm trees

when it rains in miami
the puddles fill the streets
i don't mind getting wet
the rain's the only friend i've met

she makes me happy
and she's good for me
but she leaves too soon
the sun comes back

when it rains in miami
i wanna get in my car
turn off the headlights
and listen to the rainfall

when it rains in miami
i wanna sit on my roof
and look at the water
and just listen to her

she makes me happy
and she's good for me
but she leaves too soon
the sun comes back

i walked into the grocery store
for olive oil and toothpaste.

but then i passed the fruit section
and smelled something i wasn’t expecting
a papaya, too soft, too sweet,
too close to a memory.

and suddenly, i wasn’t in miami.
I was in line at a feira in brazil,
coins in my hand,
sweat on my back,
someone calling me filha.

i didn’t buy the papaya.
i just stood there,
missing a place i left
that hasn't left me.

i dreamed of holding you 
tiny hands and little feet 
i saw you in my mind’s eye
a love so pure and sweet  

but life took a different turn 
stars realigned the way 
in trying to find you 
i found myself each day 

i wanted to give birth to you 
and instead i gave birth to myself 
through the silence i heard the truth 
i know who i am now  

i built a world for two
a space for you to grow  
but in searching for that light 
i started to truly glow 

no crib or baby shoes 
no laughter in the night 
but in the journey for you 
i found my inner light 

i wanted to give birth to you 
and instead i gave birth to myself 
through the silence i heard the truth 
i know who i am now