I won’t be sad. Not today.

Today, I am someone else—someone reborn. The mirror no longer reflects the girl who once carried silence like a stone in her chest. Instead, it shows a woman with flowers sewn into her hair, each bloom a memory I’ve chosen to keep. Tiny ladybugs rest on my skin, sipping gently from the warmth I’ve learned to offer. Even they know: I’ve become a garden.

There was a time when petals grew wild inside my ribcage, tangled and aching, pressing against bone. I kept them hidden, afraid their beauty would be misunderstood. But now, I’ve set them free. I let them drift into the world so others might breathe in the fragrance of my stories—each one a tale I once whispered only to the wind.

My lips wear truth like a bold shade of red. I speak with syllables excavated from the depths of my vowels, each word a descendant of the voice I once buried. I do not whisper anymore. I sing.

And so, I won’t be sad. Because sadness no longer fits the shape of me. I’ve bloomed beyond it. 🙏🏾❤️

©️ Beatriz Esmer