Welcome to a softer, deeper part of my journey.
Here you’ll find poems and reflections born from real moments — the ones that shaped me, stretched me, and sometimes tried to break me.
Some of these pieces started as journal entries, blog drafts, or conversations with myself.
They are not perfect — but they are honest.
I hope you find a piece of your own strength here too.
Carry What I Carry
-For when they want your light but not your load
They didn’t want my position —
they just didn’t want the sacrifice it came with.
They didn’t want the long nights,
the quiet hours,
the discipline it takes to work when the world sleeps.
Instead of owning that,
they made me the scapegoat.
It wasn’t about wanting what I have.
It was about refusing to carry what I carry.
And when people can’t handle their own decisions,
sometimes they project,
they blame,
they tear down whoever’s closest —
just to make their exit easier.
I’m not for breaking.
I will keep showing up.
I will keep protecting my peace.
I will keep choosing myself —
because my legacy,
my child,
and my dreams
deserve that much
Have you ever had to protect your peace in a space that didn’t protect you?
What did you learn about yourself in the process?
BREATHE QUEEN
—for when life is pressing but your crown still stands
It’s ok, Queen.
Relax.
Just breathe.
Breathe, Queen.
I know it feels like those bills
will never get caught up.
But you have to breathe, Queen.
You can’t think
if you don’t breathe.
So what—
your hair didn’t come out
like you wanted.
Just breathe.
I know it’s easy to say that
when I’m not in your shoes…
But still,
breathe.
Feel the air
filling your lungs—
that’s hope.
Breathe it in.
Breathe, Queen.
It gets better.
But you have to breathe.
Just breathe, Queen.
Queen, when was the last time you gave yourself permission to pause—without guilt?
What would it feel like to stop holding your breath and just let yourself be, even when life feels heavy?
You don’t have to be strong all the time. You just have to breathe.
🪞 SELFISH
—a love letter to the parts of me I’ve denied too long
Selfish
/self·ish/
adjective
(of a person, action, or motive)
lacking consideration for others;
concerned chiefly with one’s own profit or pleasure.
Selfish is something
I don’t know how to be.
But it’s something
I need to learn.
Selfish with my time—
time I’ll never get back.
Selfish with my words—
because what’s the point
if you’re not listening?
Selfish with my happiness—
I can’t let you steal it anymore.
Selfish with my love—
because you
can’t even love me
the way I deserve.
So maybe I need to
be selfish.
With me.
Sis, where in your life are you pouring too much into others and leaving yourself empty?
What would it look like to choose you first-and not feel bad about it?
How would your peace, your time, and your love shift if you stopped apologizing for protecting them?
DO YOU
—a poem for every “what are we?” you never said out loud
Do you?
We say it all the time:
“Do you.”
But are you asking me…
or telling me?
Do you,
like you did me?
Do you care
that it could make you look crazy?
Are you asking—
or telling?
Because if I go do me…
are you still going to be there?
When you were doing you,
you asked me to wait.
Do you want to wait?
Will you do me
like I did you
when you were doing you?
Will you?
Or are you just gonna say
“I’ma do me
’cause you were doing you”?
Do you even know
what you want?
Well?
Do you?
Have you ever been in a situation where someone expected you to wait, to be loyal, to stay—but didn’t offer the same in return?
What did that teach you about your worth, your boundaries, and what you’re no longer available for?
Sis, are you still waiting for someone who already chose themselves?
The Sound Of Becoming
-A poem about fading to find your voice, your discipline, and your divine self.
Eremitism
The act of fading from the lives of others—
not out of malice,
but from a desire for solitude,
for renewal.
I didn’t leave out of spite.
You didn’t do anything.
I just needed to disappear a little—
to hear the voice inside me
that’s been drowned out for far too long.
She was quiet—
almost a whisper.
Gentle—maybe too gentle—
so the words of others
spoke over her,
drowning her truth
beneath insecurities
that never belonged to her.
She needed to be heard.
She needed me
to finally listen.
The whisper became a stream—
flowing through the forest,
like a breeze brushing skin
on a warm day.
But then—
a rush of waves,
crashing like thunder
against the rocks
before a storm.
YOU are not who they say you are.
You are not responsible
for their desire
to misunderstand you.
YOU are not them.
You are not their reflection.
You are not a mirror.
As her voice crashed against me—
waves slamming into stone—
I finally heard her.
The mist kissed my face
like a mother waking her child.
With every syllable,
pain broke loose from my chest.
You are a great mother.
You know the job.
You are capable.
You are already rich in life—
the money is coming,
but first,
move out of your own way.
They only knew the old you.
Not this 38-year-old woman
who has overcome every obstacle
thrown in her path.
Your way is paved
in gold, in emeralds, in diamonds.
And you?
You are the diamond.
Pressure didn’t break you—
it made you flawless.
Have you ever had to retreat to find yourself again?
What did you discover when the world got quiet and you finally listened to your own voice?
Do I Write It Down, or Let It Fade?
A Poem About Doubt, Desire, and the Loneliness of Self-Reliance
Do I write it down,
or let the thought fade?
Do I act on it,
or let the moment slip away?
I’m stuck in the middle
of what if’s
and could be’s.
Giving myself the pep talk
I don’t want to hear—
at least not from me.
But self is all I’ve got… right?
What do you do
when self isn’t enough
and you need them—
but don’t know if they’ll show up?
Do you still write it down,
knowing it might fade?
Or do you act,
even if the moment walks away?
TheAbundantAries 