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Simone sat at the corner of a quiet coffee shop, the light hum of soft jazz swirling around her. The aroma of freshly brewed espresso mingled with the comforting warmth of her cup, but her focus was elsewhere. She was deep into a book, DeJa Vu: Poetic Memoir of Illustrious Da Poet. The words on the page struck chords within her—verses about self-love, healing, and the untangling of past wounds. She paused, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the book as she stared at the pages, unfocused. A strange sense of peace washed over her, but with it came the startling realization: she didn’t remember how she got here. Not the coffee shop. She had chosen this place deliberately, seeking solace in its dim lighting and quiet ambiance. No, it was the feeling—this lightness, this sense of serenity that had settled into her chest. But that ideal began to crack early on. It started with whispers, faint and untraceable. The first time she discovered his infidelity, it felt like a bad dream, the kind you wake up from, heart pounding, but eventually shake off. She confronted him, and Marcus swore it had been a mistake, a lapse in judgment, never to be repeated. He begged for her forgiveness, tears in his eyes, and because of her faith in love, she forgave him. And then, another child was born. Another woman. Another deep crack in the fragile foundation of her heart. Simone began to feel as though she was living in someone else’s nightmare, watching from the outside as her life unraveled, helpless to stop it. Her once vibrant spirit had dimmed, and the love she had clung to was now tainted, twisted into something painful and suffocating. They had exchanged vows, promises made before family, friends, and God. Those words mattered to Simone. She wasn’t going to be like those couples who gave up too soon. The more she forgave, the more he strayed. He grew comfortable in her forgiveness, knowing that her devotion to their marriage would keep her anchored in place, no matter how much he shattered her heart. Every betrayal chipped away at her self-worth. She no longer recognized the woman in the mirror—the confident, joyful Simone was long gone. In her place was a shadow, weighed down by disappointment, anger, and the bitter taste of resentment. She couldn’t sleep. Nights became a torment, filled with thoughts of where Marcus might be, of what he might be doing, and with whom. Her heart raced constantly, fear gripping her like a vice. She began to lose weight, the stress gnawing away at her health. Her body, once strong and capable, now felt like a shell. Simple tasks felt insurmountable. The smile she used to wear with ease now felt like a mask, one she wore to hide the constant ache of betrayal. Friends would ask how she was, but Simone couldn’t find the words to tell them the truth. Shame kept her silent. She felt trapped in a prison of her own making, one built from the ideals of love she had held onto for too long. Simone had been taught to endure, to see things through no matter how hard it got. But the weight of her marriage was unbearable, like invisible chains pulling her deeper into despair. She tried to convince herself that staying was the right thing to do, but deep down, she knew the truth. She was slowly dying inside, drowning in a sea of unspoken hurt, sacrificing herself for a man who didn’t see her worth. Still, she stayed. Because that’s what women like her did. They stayed. But one day, she woke up—tired, empty, and depleted. She looked at herself in the mirror, the reflection staring back at her a stranger. She didn’t recognize the woman in front of her, the one who had given up her joy, her peace, her identity, just to keep a sinking ship afloat. And it hit her: if she didn’t leave, she would lose herself entirely. One night, after yet another discovery of his unfaithfulness, Simone reached her breaking point. She stood in the middle of their living room, surrounded by the remnants of a life she had worked so hard to preserve, and realized that she couldn’t do it anymore. The vows she had once cherished felt like shackles. The love she had once believed in had become a cage. Tears streaming down her face, she picked up her phone and called her grandmother. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “I can’t do it anymore, Grandma. I can’t keep holding on.” Her grandmother listened in silence, her heart breaking for her granddaughter. After a long pause, she said, “Simone, love isn’t supposed to break you. It’s supposed to build you up. Staying isn’t worth losing yourself.” In that moment, Simone realized that her grandmother’s marriage had been built on mutual respect and loyalty, something that had been absent from hers for years. She had mistaken endurance for strength, but true strength lay in knowing when to walk away. She had been fighting for a love that didn’t exist anymore, and in doing so, she had lost herself. Simone packed her bags that night, leaving behind the shattered pieces of a broken marriage. It wasn’t easy. The road ahead would be full of healing and rediscovery, but for the first time in years, she felt a sense of freedom. As she walked out the door, she made a promise to herself—no more sacrificing her happiness for someone else. No more staying where she wasn’t valued. She had once believed that love could weather any storm, but now she knew that real love never makes you feel like you’re drowning. So, she left. The last eleven years of her life had been a whirlwind of chaos, betrayal, and heartache. The divorce was messy, painful, and left her in debt. The outside kids were a reminder of the life she had tried to build and failed. But as she walked away from the wreckage of her marriage, something remarkable happened—she felt a strange sense of freedom. For the first time in years, she could breathe. Now, here she was, sitting in a coffee shop, clutching a book that mirrored parts of her own journey. She couldn’t remember the exact moment it happened—when the heaviness lifted from her chest, when the bitterness stopped gnawing at her insides. But somewhere along the way, she had healed. And now, here she was, somehow… happy. She took a sip of her coffee and smiled, a real, genuine smile, not one forced by obligation or the need to keep up appearances. How had she gotten here? How had she managed to rebuild herself after everything she had been through? She didn’t remember the exact moment. Maybe it was during those quiet nights alone in her new apartment, when the silence was both deafening and comforting. Or perhaps it was the first time she went to bed without worrying about where he was, who he was with. Maybe it was in the simple joy of making decisions for herself again—small choices like what to eat, where to go, who to see. Simone closed the book and leaned back in her chair, looking out the window. Life outside seemed to move on, unaware of the battles she had fought, the pain she had endured. But inside, she felt a calm she hadn’t known in years. She was free. Free from the lies, the betrayals, the exhaustion of holding on to something that was never meant to last. She picked up DeJa Vu again, flipping to a random page. The poem she landed on spoke of resilience, of rising from the ashes. She let the words wash over her, feeling a sense of affirmation in her journey. The scars were still there, faint reminders of what she had endured, but they no longer defined her. She was whole. She didn’t remember how she got here, how she had transitioned from broken to healed, from lost to found. But as she sat in that coffee shop, her heart light, her spirit lifted, she realized that it didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was here, now. Happy. Whole. And free. Happy. Whole. And Free.By Simone I woke up this morning,With the sun kissing my skin,The warmth on my face felt like an old friend,Reminding me of who I used to beBefore the storms tried to take me.I stretched these arms,Strong and brown like the roots of my ancestors,I felt the power pulsing in my veins,The same power my mama had, and hers before her,A strength that cannot be broken.And today? Today, I claim it.Happy. Whole. And free.I spent too many years with my back bent,Carrying the weight of someone else’s dreams,Of promises made and broken like glass,Picking up pieces that weren’t mine to hold.But no more.Today, I stand tall in the fullness of me,I carry my joy like a crown,And I ain’t letting nobody take it away.I learned the hard way that love don’t mean chains,It don’t mean losing yourself in somebody else’s lies.Love is freedom. Love is peace.Love is knowing when to stay, and when to walk away,When to dance in your own light,Even if the world says you shouldn’t shine.So I dance.I move these hips to the rhythm of my own heartbeat,I laugh loud, bold, like the woman I was always meant to be,No more shrinking, no more small.I take up space,'Cause I’ve earned it,Every inch of this ground beneath my feet is mine.I’m Black and I’m proud,My skin glows like the earth after rain,My hair defies gravity like my spirit,My lips speak truth,Even when the world tries to silence me.But I will not be quiet.I will not be tamed.I speak for the little Black girl inside me,The one who dreamed of flying,And now she soars.I am whole,Every scar, every tear, every fight I survived,Made me this woman—solid, unbreakable.I carry my past like a map,But I don’t live there no more.My future is bright, wide open,Like the horizon at sunrise.I am free,Free to love myself first,Free to say “no” without apology,Free to choose peace over pain,Free to walk in the fullness of my power.And baby, I am powerful.This is my season,A time to flourish, to bloom in the richness of me.I see my reflection and I smile,Because she is everything I hoped for—A woman who knows her worth,A woman who will never settle for less than the stars.Happy. Whole. And free.That’s who I am.That’s who I will always be.And ain’t nobody gonna take that from me.Not ever again.

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She Don’t Remember How She Got Here

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 "She Couldn't Remember How She Got Here"

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"She Couldn't Remember How She Got Here"

Illustrious

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She Don’t Remember How She Got Here

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Illustrious

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