I write for myself—for every time I refused to surrender, for the nights that tried to swallow me whole and failed. I write for the lovers who shamed me, for the voices that tried to quiet mine, for you. I write the narratives they chose to ignore, the stories they refused to see.

I write for the pain that refuses to fade, for the prodigal children who wander but do not break. I write against the suffocating darkness that waits at the edges, relentless in its hunger. But I refuse to crawl back into suffering. I refuse to let them win.

I have written, I write, and I will continue writing—for the softness that refuses to shatter, for the resilience stitched into the marrow of my bones. I write new poems. I learn to survive again.

Curse the idea that breaking means staying broken. Curse it to hell and back. ✊🏾👊🏾

©️ Beatriz Esmer