Please don’t cast me into the ordinary, as if I were a pebble on a forgotten path. I am not common; I am a constellation of stardust, a symphony of quiet miracles. When I say, “I love you,” let your gaze linger upon me, for in that moment, my soul stretches its fragile wings toward yours. Listen closely, as if deciphering ancient runes etched upon my lips, when I gather courage to ask you to share your love with me. It is then that I am most human, most raw—a fragile bridge between longing and belonging. Don’t mistake my openness … Continue reading In the Whispered Language of Souls

Life is a disobedience, a rebellion against the mundane. It defies expectations, a lack of respect for the ordinary, an affront to the predictable. It is an invitation to the unknown, a daring adventure that beckons with every sunrise. Life is a pornography of emotions, raw and unfiltered, yet it holds a modesty in its quiet moments, a delicate balance between the extremes. It is a date with destiny, a rendezvous with the unforeseen, a retaliation against the constraints that bind us. Life is a poem, a tapestry of words woven with love, even if that love is defective, flawed … Continue reading Rebellion

I don’t know how many souls I have. Each moment brings a new transformation, leaving me feeling like a perpetual stranger to myself. I’ve never truly seen or found the essence of who I am. In my multiplicity, I am left with only my soul, a restless entity. A man with a soul finds no peace, for he is constantly in flux. A man who sees is confined to his vision, and a man who feels is not defined by his emotions. As I remain attentive to my being and my perceptions, I merge with them, losing my sense of … Continue reading Self & Soul

I am returning to my natural state.Not a retreat, but a reclamation.The world once taught me to be stone—to build mountains inside myself,fortresses of silence, peaks of resilience.But stone is not my truth.I am a water woman. I remember now.I remember the way I used to flow—unapologetically, endlessly,carving paths through the impossible,dancing with the moon,whispering to the tides. These mountains inside me are crumbling.Not in destruction, but in grace.Each boulder that fallsmakes room for rivers to run again.I am softening…and in that softness, I am becoming. Becoming the woman who listens to the rainand hears her own heartbeat.Becoming the woman … Continue reading Chronicle of the Water Woman

Was love always this complicated—or have we made it so?Wasn’t there a time when love felt simple, unthreatening, and pure?How did something so universally understood become so deeply misunderstood? It’s heartbreaking to see how love has been reduced to superficial metrics: money, appearance, social status, and performative behavior.Instead of embracing love as the indescribable feeling that stirs within us, society now tries to define it, box it in, and script its expression.Why must love conform to expectations, rather than flourish in its own unique form? In our desperate longing to experience love, have we learned to settle for familiarity over … Continue reading When Did It Get So Complicated?

I’ve loved you all along, whispers the sun to the moon, her voice a tender caress of warmth and light. As she descends the sky, blushing in hues of crimson and gold, she casts one last longing glance at the moon. But tonight, he is only half-there, a sad waning hemisphere that neither listens nor hears. With a heavy heart, the sun tucks herself into bed, her light dimming as she slips beneath the horizon. In the next room, the stars, ever the guardians of the night, block their ears and sing lullabies, trying to drown out the sound of … Continue reading Whispers of Unrequited Love

The weight of my ancestors’ words is a testament to their enduring legacy. Each syllable, etched into my being, carries the wisdom of generations past. As these words were inscribed upon me, they did more than mark my skin; they infused my very essence with the richness of my heritage. The ink, dark and deep, symbolizes the strength and resilience that flows through my veins. In the mirror, I see not just my reflection but the stories of those who came before me. Their struggles, triumphs, and dreams are woven into the tapestry of my existence. The darkness of my … Continue reading Ancestral Words

In the hush between stars and soil, I exist—a fragile whisper of being, spun from mud and dreams. My form is fleeting, soft as dusk, easily undone by time’s breath. Yet within this delicate vessel, something ancient stirs. I feel it: the pulse of galaxies, the rhythm of tides, the fire that births suns. All the powers of the universe whirl within me, not as dominion, but as a dance. I am small, yes—but infinite in wonder. A speck of earth cradling the cosmos. And in that paradox, I bloom. ❤ ©️ Beatriz Esmer Continue reading I exist —

Books, clothes, shoes—each folded and stacked with precision. Cutlery aligned like soldiers, dishes nested like secrets. His journal, a map of scattered thoughts, tucked between pages of time. He arranged anxiety beside love, gods beside demons, fears beside truths. His boss, his mother—filed under obligations. Sorrows and deprivations, hypocrisies and pains—he placed them gently in drawers, basements, and the folds of old sheets. He sorted sleep into symptoms, dreams into shadows. Lies were labeled and stored in the corners of memory, deceptions wrapped in silence. Every word he spoke carried the weight of the others, each syllable echoing through the … Continue reading He organized everything

Vague paragraphs and serious periods, where reticences in detail paint the canvas of our thoughts, we find ourselves lost in the labyrinth of square commas and interrupted phrases. Unfinished histories linger like whispers in the wind, stories and small talk weaving the fabric of our existence. After? Afterward, I will pay the toll of reflection. In the uncovered sleep of dreams, silence rests upon the mouth, yet words dance in the eyes. The body, adorned with transparent stars, wears the sky as a dress. A moon is stamped on the nose, and the sun kisses the cheeks. A feature full … Continue reading Essence of Dreams