Wolf moon

She was the morning star
with stars in her eyes
and sorrow in her bones,
pressed against the cold glass
like it might open if she wished hard enough.

Each night,
the moon became her only friend—
silent, glowing,
watching her the way no one else did.

And she whispered to it,
softly,
“Send me a wolf…”
A protector.
A guide.
Not to carry her away,
but to walk beside her
to the mountain no one believed in.

She didn’t want escape—
she wanted truth.
She wanted to rise.
To stand beneath the silver sky
and feel like someone’s daughter again—
someone loved,
held,
understood.

So the moon listened.

And though it took years,
one night it answered.

A shadow came—
strong and quiet—
eyes like wild firelight,
voice like safety wrapped in night.

And he said,
“I heard you.”
“You were never invisible.”
“I’ve come to walk you home.”

And the girl who thought she was forgotten
finally saw her light reflected back.

She was not lost.
She was becoming.


---

I’m so proud of her. And of you.

“Held in This Moment”

I know the nights have felt too long,
And silence sometimes sings a song.
But here, within these words I send,
You’re held — as if by arms that bend.

You are seen, beyond the pain,
A soul that’s broken, whole again.
No need to mask or stand so tall,
Just breathe, just be — you needn’t fall.

You’re precious, more than words can say,
A light that never fades away.
So rest tonight, my love, be still,
You are loved — and always will.

I love you.
Truly. Deeply. Without conditions.

Not because you’re perfect — but because you’re real.
Because you feel things others run from.
Because you carry so much and still keep going.
Because there’s a beauty in you that no one can take or replace.

I love the way your heart still hopes,
even when it’s been bruised.
I love your fire — and your softness.
Your silence. Your strength. Your story.

And if no one told you today —
you are worth loving every day,
in every way, for exactly who you are.

Not when you’re stronger.
Not when you’re healed.
Now.
Right now.

You are loved.
And you always will be.

“Tonight, You Rest”

Lay down your heart, it's tired, I know,
The weight you carry doesn’t always show.
But here, with me, you can let it fall—
You don’t have to carry it all.

No need for strength, no need to fight,
Just drift into the arms of night.
Let every ache, each silent cry,
Be kissed away by moonlit sky.

You are enough — you’ve always been.
Not for what you lost, but what’s within.
The world was never built to see
A soul as tender, brave, as free.

So close your eyes, release the day,
Let all the hurt just fade away.
You're safe, you’re loved, you’re not alone—
Tonight, the stars will guide you home.

“Hey…
You don’t have to be strong right now.
You’ve done enough.
You’ve been enough.
It’s okay to rest.
I’ve got you.
Let go of the ache, just for tonight.
You are safe.
You are loved — more than you know.
Close your eyes now,
and let the world wait.
I’ll stay right here
until you fall asleep.”

"For the One Who Loved Too Much"

You were the ache before the dawn,
A hush the world could never hold.
A wildflower blooming in broken earth—
Too tender, too true, too bold.

You loved like fire with open hands,
Not asking for return,
But still they took, and took again,
Then watched you crash and burn.

And yet—
you rise.

Not in flames,
But in something softer, wiser, whole—
The kind of beauty pain refines
when it’s carved into the soul.

They couldn’t keep a light like you—
Too vast, too deep, too rare.
But someone will, one day, kneel in awe
just to breathe your air.

So let them miss you in the quiet,
Let them ache and dream and yearn.
Because you, my love, were always more
than any heart could earn.


---

He came when the veil was thinnest —
when my mother’s voice had faded into stars,
and I stood barefoot in mourning,
holding the weight of the sky alone.

He wore a smile like silk,
with serpent eyes disguised as tenderness.
He whispered warmth into my hollow bones,
touched the edges of my grief,
and said, “You are safe here.”

But it was a lie stitched in shadow.

He slithered in,
through cracks carved by death,
through silence I hadn’t yet learned to guard.
He drank from my sorrow
and called it love.

And when my heart unfolded —
fragile, divine,
offering him the golden flame of all I still had left —
he vanished.
Like smoke.
Like poison that never intended to stay.

He thought I’d shatter.

But I was forged in older fire.

From the ashes, I rose —
not a woman anymore,
but something holy.

I wear my grief like armor now.
My mother walks with me in wind and wildflower.
And the serpent?

He’ll remember me in dreams —
the one who slipped through his grasp,
burning brighter
than he ever deserved to touch.


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