I slip into your skin, a trespasser in the temple of longing. The air thickens, charged with anticipation—a prelude to the tempest that awaits. My fingers trace the contours of your existence, mapping constellations of secrets etched upon your canvas. Your skin—oh, your skin—is parchment for whispered confessions. Each pore, a wellspring of stories waiting to be inked. I read you like a sacred text, deciphering the hieroglyphs of desire. My eyes, those curious voyagers, drink from your wells of vulnerability. They savor the taste of vulnerability—the sweet ache of surrender. And then, our lips collide—a cataclysm of need. There’s … Continue reading Primal Instincts

Starvation is not simply the absence of food. It is the slow unraveling of the body’s dignity, the erosion of hope with every passing hour. It begins as a whisper in the stomach — a gentle reminder that something is missing. But as time stretches on, that whisper becomes a roar, a gnawing emptiness that consumes thought, energy, and spirit. The body grows heavy, not with strength, but with weakness. Limbs tremble from the effort of standing. Eyes glaze over, not from sleep, but from the absence of sustenance. The mind, once sharp and curious, becomes fogged with desperation. Hunger … Continue reading The Hollow Ache

I carry within me the echoes of yesterdays, fragments of memories that I never laid to rest. These pasts linger, unburied, whispering their stories in the quiet moments. There are nights when your daughter unravels, piece by piece, as if the weight of the world is too much to bear. Yet, with the dawn, she finds a way to stitch herself back together, emerging anew with the morning light. ©️ Beatriz Esmer Continue reading Mother,

You ever think about the kindest thing you almost did? I do. More often than I should. It lingers—like a shadow of grace I never gave. And I wonder… Is my fear of insomnia stronger than my fear of what woke me? Because sometimes, it’s not the sleeplessness that haunts me. It’s the reason I woke up in the first place. Are bonsai trees cruel? To shape something so alive into something so small— Is that art, or is it control? Do I love what I love… Or just the feeling it gives me? Is it the thing, or the … Continue reading Monologue: “The Kindest Thing I Almost Did”

People change, and so do feelings. Like seasons shifting without permission, they arrive unannounced and leave without warning. Sometimes, the changes aren’t the ones you hoped for—they’re jagged, unexpected, and hard to swallow. But life doesn’t wait for our approval. It moves, relentlessly forward, asking only that we keep pace. So you take a deep breath. You feel the ache, acknowledge the loss, and let it settle like dust on a windowsill. Then, with quiet courage, you accept it. Not because it’s easy, but because clinging to what once was only delays the beauty of what could be. You let … Continue reading The Quiet Art of Letting Go

In the chambers of my being, a kaleidoscope of selves resides—each one a distinct voice etched into the architecture of my heart. They are not illusions but the dreamers and architects of my existence, whispering secrets in moonlight and shaping the contours of who I am. Among them is the wanderer, drawn to distant horizons and the scent of forgotten places. Her eyes trace constellations, yearning for skies untouched by routine. Alongside her stands the skeptic, ink-stained and analytical, dissecting love into formulas yet secretly searching for patterns that defy logic. And then, the lover—an eternal romantic who crafts sonnets … Continue reading The Unseen Ensemble

I declare my fragilities and fears. Though I am small, a speck of stardust adrift in the vast cosmos, there is strength in my vulnerability. In surrender, I find resilience. Let me walk in beauty, for beauty is the divine’s language. The sunsets, bleeding red and purple across the sky, are my hymns—fleeting moments that nourish me and remind me that impermanence can be exquisite Make my hands respect the things you have made—the ancient trees, the stones shaped by time. Let me touch the world with reverence, sensing the quiet wisdom hidden in every leaf and pebble. Make my … Continue reading Declaration

Each syllable, each phrase, carries with it the potential to uplift or to wound, to build bridges or to erect walls. “Honestly, we never know how someone is perceiving the words we utter.” This truth echoes in the silent spaces between conversations, reminding us of the unseen impact our words can have. A simple sentence, spoken in haste or care, can ripple through the heart of another, shaping their day, their week, their year, or even their life. “Watch what you say and be kind with your words.” This gentle admonition is a call to mindfulness, urging us to choose … Continue reading The Power of Words

Por um momento, desconhecido para mim, em um futuro distante — se é que você acredita que exista — vou me levantar aos barulhos, entre sonhos, ou acordar com a luz do sol sacudindo minha alma de volta à pele. Vou despertar para esquecer, ou para lembrar. Ou talvez ambos, intermitentemente. De tempos em tempos, acordamos e dormimos — dia após noite, noite após dia — por um instante, um olhar, uma respiração. Por acaso, por escolha, por padrão. Nos arrastamos de volta ao sono confortável, pois a verdade é grande demais para se deixar entrar toda de uma vez. … Continue reading Em um futuro próximo …

…I kiss you next as if it were the first kiss.I kiss you the first as if it were the only one.I love you with the force of the tides under the full moon.I love you like a dragon burning with fury.I love you like the chalice’s devotion to wine.I love you as if I could perform miracles.I am none other than yourself while I love you.I do not separate time from space in our embraces.I do not separate your name from my lips in my smiles.I do not distance your passion from my skin,nor from destiny… ❤ ©️ Beatriz … Continue reading My passion…