Tag: life

1 Comment

Profound Moments

beatrizesmer

Sometimes I stand in front of the mirror, tracing the lines and curves of my reflection. My eyes, pools of uncertainty; my mouth, a silent witness; the shape of my forehead, marked by the weight of thoughts; the curve of my eyelids, heavy with dreams unfulfilled; the line of my face, a map of experiences both bitter and sweet. How could this flawed, imperfect visage craft verses that speak to the soul? There must be something more… but what? In the labyrinth of thought, I find myself questioning the very act of questioning. To live, truly live, is to lose … Continue reading Profound Moments

Leave a comment

The Visit

beatrizesmer

As I wait for myself, the words come to visit. I search among my verses and fruits for some unwary certainty of me, a distracted truth hidden between the lines of this chaotic life. The pages whisper, and the ink flows, painting the canvas of my thoughts with shades of clarity and confusion. Each line, a brushstroke of my essence, and each stanza, a window to the soul I am yet to fully understand. The journey through my own poetry is a labyrinth of revelations, where the unexpected becomes the familiar, and the familiar, a source of new wonder. In … Continue reading The Visit

1 Comment

Self-Love

beatrizesmer

I cannot make you stay. I cannot make you love me. But in the quiet moments of solitude, I have found myself. I have fallen in love with this skin, this body that carries the weight of a thousand poems. Each day, I embrace this blackness, kissed by the sun every morning, and I am content with the way the Universe has crafted me. Flaws and all, I am perfect in its eyes. I stand tall, knowing that my worth is not defined by your presence or absence, but by the love I have for myself. In this journey of … Continue reading Self-Love

Leave a comment

Prose on Love and Nightfall

beatrizesmer

She speaks with a tenderness that cradles each word, as if she holds love itself within her mouth. This love, delicate and precious, is like a fruit ripening with every whispered syllable, or a daughter nurtured with every breath. Her words are a gentle caress, a promise of the love she carries, ready to be born from her lips, unaware of the night that surrounds her. For a woman who is truly loved, nightfall never comes. Her world is illuminated by the warmth of affection, a perpetual twilight where shadows cannot linger. In her presence, time stands still, and the … Continue reading Prose on Love and Nightfall

Leave a comment

Healing Words

beatrizesmer

Somedays, we find ourselves weaving words into poems, each line a tribute to the women who nurtured us, the lovers who held us, and the fathers whose shadows we walk in. These verses become our solace, our way of remembering and honoring the fragments of our lives. Sometimes, our pens become the voice for an entire continent, a collective cry for healing and justice. We write not just for ourselves, but for the countless souls who share our pain, our struggles, and our dreams. In these moments, our words become a balm, a beacon of hope in a world that … Continue reading Healing Words

Leave a comment

Reflections on Mortality

beatrizesmer

Do not weep when I am gone, for I will no longer hear your cries. Even if you scream outside, your despair will be invisible to me. In death, do not seek my forgiveness, for I cannot grant it. Once in the cold drawer, I cannot respond. Do not bring me flowers, for I cannot smell them. The colors do not matter, for I cannot see them. Do not regret in my absence. Do not regret my departure. Let your conscience be at peace, for I will no longer have mine. You cannot change things. You cannot improve the future. … Continue reading Reflections on Mortality

Leave a comment

Turbulent Emotions

beatrizesmer

As I navigate this inner landscape, I am both the wanderer and the warrior, grappling with the unseen forces that stir within me. The cacophony of my soul is a symphony of contradictions, where joy and sorrow, hope and despair, dance in a delicate balance. Each emotion is a brushstroke on the canvas of my heart, painting a picture that is uniquely mine. In the stillness of the night, when the world is hushed, I can hear the whispers of my soul. They speak of dreams unfulfilled, and desires unspoken, of love lost and found. It is in these moments … Continue reading Turbulent Emotions

1 Comment

Cleansing the Soul

beatrizesmer

Amidst the quietude of a sun-dappled morning, I embarked on a peculiar ritual—a cleansing of the intangible. Armed with metaphorical soap and water, I stood at the threshold of my mind, ready to scrub away the residue of yesteryears. First, the dreams. Those fragile, ephemeral things that once clung to my consciousness like morning dew on petals. I lathered them in suds, watching as they dissolved, swirling down the drain. Plans, too—they slipped through my fingers, leaving only a faint scent of possibility. Next, memories. Some were like old photographs, sepia-toned and faded, while others were vivid and sharp, capable … Continue reading Cleansing the Soul

Leave a comment

If I am your child…

beatrizesmer

Please touch me. Persist; find ways to meet my needs. Your touch is the language of love—the silent poetry that bridges the gap between hearts. In your embrace, I discover safety, warmth, and the promise that I am not alone in this vast, uncertain world. Your goodnight hug helps sweeten my dreams. As the day’s shadows lengthen, and the moon tiptoes across the sky, your arms wrap around me like a soft cocoon. In that moment, worries dissolve, and the weight of existence lifts. You whisper, “Rest, my dear,” and I drift into slumber, cradled by your affection. Your daytime … Continue reading If I am your child…

Leave a comment

Moonlit Musings: A Prose of Ink

beatrizesmer

Tell me about yourself, you inquire, as if I were a character in a forgotten novel, waiting to step out from between the pages. But I am no protagonist; I am merely a vessel for musings, a wanderer through the constellations of thought. My days—those ephemeral voyages—unfold like ancient maps, their edges frayed by time. I lose myself among the moons of paper, tracing ink rivers that wind through forests of sentences. Each paragraph is a forest clearing, where sunbeams filter through leaves, illuminating forgotten memories. There, I encounter fragments of half-formed dreams—their colors muted, like old photographs left too … Continue reading Moonlit Musings: A Prose of Ink