Tag: love

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Father

beatrizesmer

Father, where are my wings? I yearn to soar above the world, to leave behind the weight of my weary heart and ascend into the boundless sky. Why did you bestow upon me such strength, only to watch me stumble and fall? I am but a fallen angel, a creature of grace burdened by the weight of earthly woes. Father, can you hear me? Where do I place the dreams you held for me, the aspirations that once danced within your gaze? Where do I find the fortitude that you instilled in me, the resilience that was meant to carry … Continue reading Father

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I survived him

beatrizesmer

He was a different kind of pain, a tempest that raged within the chambers of my heart. His presence was a tumultuous storm, tearing through the tranquility of my soul, leaving behind a trail of emotional wreckage. He was a war inside me, a battle that raged on relentlessly, threatening to consume every part of my being. His words were like daggers, his actions like arrows, piercing the armor of my resilience and leaving me vulnerable in the wake of his tumultuous presence. But in the midst of the chaos, I found the strength to endure. I weathered the storm, … Continue reading I survived him

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Madalena da Paz feelings

beatrizesmer

All I have left of him is his scent, a fragile fragment of memory that I cradle in the palm of my hand. It’s a piece of cut cloth from what used to be our pillow, a relic of the days when our lives were intertwined, our dreams woven together in the fabric of our shared existence. Now, it’s all I have, wrapped in clear plastic to shield it from the ravages of time and the cruelty of the elements. He has left behind a tangle inside of me, a knot of emotions and longing that will take years to … Continue reading Madalena da Paz feelings

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The fool within me …

beatrizesmer

In the depths of my being, I must learn to embrace the fool within me—the one who dances with emotions too fervently, who speaks with a heart laid bare, and who dares to take risks that lead to both triumph and defeat. This fool within me lacks the restraint of self-control yet brims with a love that knows no bounds. This fool loves with an intensity that ignites the soul, yet also harbors the capacity for both adoration and disdain. It’s a paradoxical dance of light and shadow, where hurt and healing intertwine, where promises are made and at times, … Continue reading The fool within me …

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I think I fall in love a little bit with anyone who shows me their soul

beatrizesmer

In a world veiled in guarded hearts and fearful whispers, I find solace in the rawness of souls laid bare. There’s a certain magic in the vulnerability of unguarded hearts, a symphony of authenticity that resonates with the deepest chambers of my being. I think I fall in love, just a little bit, with anyone who peels back the layers of their soul, revealing the intricate tapestry of their essence. In the midst of a world that often conceals its true nature, I am drawn to the unfiltered truth that flows from the depths of a person’s spirit. There’s a … Continue reading I think I fall in love a little bit with anyone who shows me their soul

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“You’re dangerous,” he says. “Why?” “Because you make me believe in the impossible.”

beatrizesmer

In your presence, the boundaries of my world tremble, and the walls I’ve built around my heart begin to crumble. You are a tempest, a force that defies reason and logic, stirring within me a belief in the extraordinary. Your words are like whispers from a realm of dreams, weaving enchanting tales of possibilities that defy the constraints of reality. You are a catalyst, igniting the flames of hope and daring me to reach for the stars. In your gaze, I see the reflection of a universe where the inconceivable becomes tangible, where the unimaginable takes shape. You are a … Continue reading “You’re dangerous,” he says. “Why?” “Because you make me believe in the impossible.”

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Little things …

beatrizesmer

It is the little things that occupy the deepest spaces in the heart. Like hidden treasures nestled in the secret chambers of the soul, these small gestures, delicate words, and authentic gestures of love are the ones we will carry with us forever. They are the whispered “I love you” in the quiet of the night, a gentle melody that lingers in the heart long after the words have faded into the embrace of memory. They are the tender caress of a hand, a silent reassurance that speaks volumes without a single syllable. They are the shared laughter that dances … Continue reading Little things …

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I learnt from the flowers …

beatrizesmer

I wasn’t always a woman, I wasn’t always this soft; I had to learn from the flowers after the storm, how to be, and how to survive them, both. I am the bloom that rises from the wreckage, the petal that unfurls in the aftermath of chaos. I am the alchemy of strength and vulnerability, the resilience that emerges from the tempest, softened by the gentle touch of grace. I learned from the flowers, those delicate warriors who bow to the fury of the storm and rise again, adorned with the shimmering pearls of rain. I learned to weather the … Continue reading I learnt from the flowers …

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Sometimes we need this to bear our raw reality …

beatrizesmer

To romanticize the world is to peel back the layers of reality and reveal the enchantment that lies beneath. It is to awaken the soul to the magic, mystery, and wonder that dance through the fabric of existence. It is to educate the senses to see the ordinary as extraordinary, the familiar as strange, the mundane as sacred, and the finite as infinite. In the romanticized world, every dewdrop on a petal is a glistening gem, every rustling leaf a whispered secret, and every sunset a masterpiece painted by the hand of divinity. It is a world where the scent … Continue reading Sometimes we need this to bear our raw reality …

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Your eyes: the color of poetry

beatrizesmer

I am seeking the very flowers in your eyes, let me rest my gaze on your iris! Pollinated pupil; ripe. Ripe with meaning, swollen with assurance. God’s tongue. You speak to me in the forgotten language of souls. I remember how we used to speak through silence before all the noise came. In the garden of your eyes, I find the blossoms of truth, delicate petals that whisper secrets only the heart can hear. Each glance is a dance, a ballet of emotions that twirls and pirouettes, painting a picture of love and understanding. Your eyes are the windows to … Continue reading Your eyes: the color of poetry