She stood in the kitchen, hands resting on the cold countertop, staring blankly at the dishes.
The hum of the fridge. The ping of another unread message.
It all blurred into one heavy moment…

You stand here,
head high, heart weary,
wondering if it’s too much
to want more…

You were never just one woman.
You are made of hundreds.
Those who came before
with calloused hands
and unsaid dreams…