I am not a poet; I am a pretender, a woman having an affair with words. Each phrase is a clandestine lover, whispering secrets against the sound of my heartbeat. I weave these words together, a tapestry spun from my soul’s depths, blending emotion and thought into a delicate dance of language.

As I write, I feel my emotions grow wings, fluttering from the page into the ether, each syllable a breath of life. This affair with words is more than mere pretense; it is a consuming passion that transcends the boundaries of reality. With every line, I lay bare the fragments of my heart, letting them take flight and find their place in the vast expanse of the universe.

In this intimate union with words, I discover facets of myself I never knew existed. It is through this tender infidelity that I find the truest expression of my being. Each sentence is a sigh, each paragraph a caress, and together they form the story of who I am. ❤️🌻

©️ Beatriz Esmer