What the Heart Remembers

What the Heart Remembers

I took your hand
as if it already knew mine,
a ruby pulse hidden in the vein of time,
beating like a drum the body cannot silence.

This wasn’t a banquet of abundance,
but of meanings—
crumbs of truth, sacred food
laid out for those brave enough to taste.

They called me a lady,
pressed me into a velvet box,
buttoned the world’s rules into my dress,
warned me of trouble disguised as longing.

Yet your breath on my cheek
undid the stitching.

In that single instance,
the soul divided into two—
what I was taught to survive,
and what I was born to remember.

➿️➿️➿️

— Maggie
The Afterlove Voice 💫