The Mother I Never Knew
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- Parts 15
This is a book for the women who were never allowed to speak their truth-
and the daughters who heard it anyway, in silence, in stares, in the spaces between.
First Heartbeat, Last Word is a sacred collection of poems born from grief, memory, and the ache of being misunderstood. Through ancestral echoes, mother wounds, and the soft rebellion of survival, this book carries what was too heavy for generations before us to hold.
These are poems for the ones who were rewritten.
The ones who burned quietly.
And the ones who came after-
to remember, to question, and finally, to say it out loud.
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His mistress
Loving him was the cruelest kind of torment-a love that lived in the shadows, one that could never bask in the warmth of the sun. I was nothing more than a stolen moment, a whispered name in the dark, a secret he tucked away between the life he had built and the one he wished he could have. I knew, deep down, that I was a fracture in his story, a fleeting escape from the weight of his reality. And yet, I still clung to him, to the illusion that for a few precious hours, he was mine. But the truth was relentless-it came in the form of unanswered texts, in the way he dressed hurriedly after loving me, in the way he said her name with the same tenderness he once gave me. I had given him my heart, knowing he would never be able to keep it, and yet, I loved him still. Loved him as I watched him walk away, loved him as he returned to the arms of the woman he truly belonged to, loved him as I drowned in the loneliness he left behind. Because no matter how much I wished it to be different, I was not his home-I was just a place he visited before going back to where his heart truly lived.Complete
The Price of Innocence
"Some ghosts don't haunt to scare you. They haunt to remind you what you lost." Thandi's innocence echoed in every memory she shared with her sister. She's accepted the truth - her sister is gone, and nothing can change that. But everything shatters the moment she sees her again. Alive. Smiling. Real. Now caught between the sister she loves and the man she's come to care for, Thandi must make an impossible choice - one that will teach her that even innocence comes with a price. In a world of power, secrets, and ruthless ambition, every choice has consequences. Loyalties will be tested, hearts will be broken, and betrayal lurks in the most unexpected places. Survival is only the beginning; when nothing is as it seems, even the purest hearts cast the darkest shadows.Complete
Life as it is
She doesn't talk about it not out loud. Not the childhood stolen behind closed doors. Not the nights that blurred into silence. Not the years of shame, of pain, of pretending to be okay. But on the page? She tells the truth. In this deeply personal and soul baring collection, a young woman traces her path through a lifetime of abuse, betrayal, and grief-and the quiet, aching journey of healing that follows. Through poetry, she unearths the stories she's never spoken aloud, giving voice to the trauma that shaped her, and the strength that's carried her through. Each poem is a heartbeat. A scar. A step forward. Sometimes backwards. But always hers. Living. Breaking. Surviving. Healing. This is not just her story. It's the story of anyone who's ever felt broken, unseen, or unheard and still chose to write themselves into the light.Complete
At just 13
To the countless women who have survived the invisible cages of domestic abuse, the silent screams echoing in empty rooms, the suffocating sweetness of manipulative love turning to bitter ash. This is for those who have found the strength to break free, to rebuild their lives from the shattered fragments of their past. This is for the daughters and sons who witnessed the darkness, yet found the courage to nurture the seeds of hope in their mothers' hearts. This is for the ones who, felt the insidious creep of control, the slow erosion of self, the chilling isolation that whispers of despair. This is for the women who, against all odds, found the unwavering strength to pick up the pieces, to reclaim their voices, their identities, their futures. This is for the women who dared to escape, to heal, to thrive. To the anchors of my resilience, the embodiment of my enduring hope, and to every woman who has fought for her own freedom, this book is a testament to your immeasurable courage, your unwavering spirit, and your unyielding strength. May it serve as a beacon of light in the darkest of nights, a reminder that even in the deepest shadows, the flame of hope continues to burn. May it inspire you to keep fighting, keep believing, keep rising. Because you are stronger than you know, braver than you imagine, and infinitely more resilient than you ever believed possible. This is for you, for your unyielding spirit and for the future you are forging. May this story be a small contribution to a much-needed conversation, a whisper of solidarity in the face of overwhelming silence, a reminder that you are not alone and that healing is possible. Your fight, your survival, your triumph, inspires me every single day. This book is my tribute to your unwavering strength. This is for you.Complete
Things I Wasn't Supposed to Say: A Journal of Silent Battles and Unspoken Truths
They told me to stay quiet. To smile, to endure, to bury the words that burned inside me. But silence is heavy. And sometimes the only way to survive is to write the things no one wants to hear. This book is a collection of truths-raw, tender, and unapologetically human. It speaks of invisible wounds, love that aches, hope that refuses to die, and the quiet rebellion of being yourself in a world that demands masks. If you've ever felt too much, stayed unheard, or carried a storm inside- these words are for you.Complete
ℯ𝒸𝒽ℴℯ𝓈 ℴ𝒻 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒽ℯ𝒶𝓇𝓉
"Echoes of the heart, the lingering feelings from past loves and losses, their memories a constant hum beneath the surface." - This connects heart echoes to memories and past relationships. "Echoes of the heart, the quiet whispers of intuition, the inner knowing that guides our choices, the voice of our deepest self." - This emphasizes the heart as a source of inner wisdom. "Echoes of the heart, the resonating impact of profound experiences, the moments that shape us and continue to ripple through our being." - This focuses on the lasting effects of powerful emotional experiences. "Echoes of the heart, the subtle undertones of desire, longing, and connection, the unspoken needs that drive our actions." - This emphasizes the heart as a source of desires and motivations. "Echoes of the heart, the faintest traces of empathy, the way we sense and share the emotions of those around us, a bridge of shared humanity." - This links the heart to empathy and connection. "Echoes of the heart, the persistent yearnings for something more, the internal compass that points us towards fulfillment and meaning." - This focuses on the heart as a source of yearning and purpose.
She.
Poetry, scenes and short stories written from the fingertips of a girl who doesn't know her own heart. She's filled each corner with love and light that she thought was pure just to watch it rot off and fill like a gaping dark hole. But these heartbreaks made her heart what it is now. Whatever her heart is now.m She Series: Book one.Complete
Turned my life into art
My collection of poems in the past three years which leads to character development. Realistic incidents, illusionary love, hardships, it's quite a journey. Some say I'm unique and some say I'm Raw. Some say my work is relatable and some feel they can relate. That's crazy though, makes me want to be heard. I was quiet as feathers basically my whole life, closed up, antisocial, lost. Until I started writing. Although, I didn't open my mouth, I was even louder than before. Excuse me, I am louder!Complete
Loving him was the cruelest kind of torment-a love that lived in the shadows, one that could never bask in the warmth of the sun. I was nothing more than a stolen moment, a whispered name in the dark, a secret he tucked away between the life he had built and the one he wished he could have. I knew, deep down, that I was a fracture in his story, a fleeting escape from the weight of his reality. And yet, I still clung to him, to the illusion that for a few precious hours, he was mine. But the truth was relentless-it came in the form of unanswered texts, in the way he dressed hurriedly after loving me, in the way he said her name with the same tenderness he once gave me. I had given him my heart, knowing he would never be able to keep it, and yet, I loved him still. Loved him as I watched him walk away, loved him as he returned to the arms of the woman he truly belonged to, loved him as I drowned in the loneliness he left behind. Because no matter how much I wished it to be different, I was not his home-I was just a place he visited before going back to where his heart truly lived.
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