I am afraid of my own tears, Afraid they may fall too fiercely, Hot as confession, Heavy as centuries of hidden pain, And burn the softness from my face. The mirror has always known me As the obedient girl with the practiced smile, The one whose lips bloom on command Like prayer offered before an Read more…

The empty streets were patient that night. The hurried feet of day had disappeared, and the old bends of the road seemed to wait— as if they knew someone like me would eventually return. April had been cruel again. The thunderstorms came and went, yet even they failed to disturb the stubborn calm of those Read more…