Bluebells caught in her tangled hair,
Buttercups dancing in the open air.
A daisy crown, a fragile ring,
Foxglove whispers where shadows sing.

A bouquet gripped, loose in her hands,
Dreaming of boys, of far-off lands.
She waits for their eyes, for their seed to sow,
Forever ripe, with a heart aglow.

Running naked where the wild horses roam,
Wings outstretched, the world her home.
She reaches for sunlight, it burns her skin,
Magic bursts where dreams begin.

Blown bubbles scatter, they fill the sky,
Childhood hopes, now asking why.
A father’s absence, poverty’s chains,
Creativity blooms through endless pains.

Children raised where the waves collide,
Her heart’s adrift on the restless tide.
Alone with thoughts that crush and swell,
A soul on fire, a story to tell.

Yet wildflowers grow where the earth is torn,
In the cracks of loss, new life is born.
She rises strong, though the storm may call,
A radiant spirit that conquers it all.

She swelled with the tide, a temple of flesh,
A prisoner of the moon, caught in its mesh.
The babe, a fish swimming dark seas unseen,
A Pisces prophet with eyes serpentine.

They wove the spell, this chaos, this sin,
A labyrinth of whispers carved deep in her skin.
“Forgive me,” she moaned, lips cracked and dry,
“This child will tear the veils of the sky.”

Her hands, pale ghosts, reached for the flame,
“Punish me, lover, call me by name.
Bleed me, feed me, make it all slow,
Your love is a mirror—I shatter, I glow.”

Her womb was a temple, heavy with fire,
The hymns of a rebel, the strings of a lyre.
The babe coiled tight like a venomous charm,
A grenade of fate cradled in her arm.

The stars watched silent, the earth held its breath,
A shadow-child dancing with the drums of death.
She laughed at the gods, her voice wild and free,
“This is rebellion—it starts with me.”

A cat in the window,
eyes wide with grace,
Another on my lap,
warmth taking its place.

Dust motes swirl in the sunbeam’s embrace,
The scent of Arabic coffee
fills the space.
Daydreams drift softly,
time slows its pace.

A hearty stew bubbles,
its promise near,
Rich scents weaving
a story of cheer.
The slow-cooker hums,
a comforting tune,
Filling the room
with a savory boon.

You scroll through videos,
a chuckle, a grin,
As I turn the page
where my book begins.
Sometimes we pause,
a shared thought or glance,
Lost in the rhythm,
our own quiet dance.

Our haven, a world
both simple and sweet,
Where moments align,
a life complete.
In the warmth of our home,
we find our reprieve,
Together in joy,
as the hours weave.

Before they fade
Say what must be said,
before silence claims
the chance—
sorry,
forgive me,
I love you,
always will stay,
words to heal
before they fade.

Let vanity slip away like smoke in the wind,
And lies crumble beneath the weight of truth.
Let doubt loosen its grip on your soul,
And gossip fall quiet in the stillness of love.
No false friends, no hollow words—
It is time to show them who you are.