I don’t know the words. Not the right ones, anyway.
I’m really not that smart—at least not in the way people measure it.
I don’t even know how I do it. I just get by.
By feeling.

That’s my compass.
Not logic, not formulas, not the polished speeches people rehearse.
I move through the world with my chest open,
letting the wind of emotion guide me,
even when it stings.

A heart?
That’s easy.
It speaks in pulses, in silences, in the way it breaks.
Eyes?
I can read them like old letters—
sometimes smudged, sometimes screaming.
Motives?
That one gets me.
They wear masks, change costumes,
but sooner or later, I know.
I always know.

Words don’t impress me.
They’re slippery.
I don’t care about your words.
I’m going to read your heart.
So don’t let it fail me.
I’m not that strong.
I’ve carried too many broken pieces already.

What I really want—
is to share my song.
Not the kind you hear on the radio.
The kind that lives in the quiet.
In the humble lines I write,
in verses and prose that tremble with truth.
My truth.
Not perfect, not polished.
But mine. 🙏🏾❤️

©️ Beatriz Esmer