Two Years to Confess, Four Years to Mend
Healing in the shadow of your delayed grief.
Haunting the Spaces You Left Behind
To the ones who taught me that turning emotions into words is the best medicine.
The Ghost of Sixteen
“Someone will come,” I whispered, counting lines.
Too Small for the Day
A feeling I was never meant to last.
The Language of the Bloom
“Even when you dry up, darling, something lives.”