Between Bruises & Blooms

For one week,
this is how she will exist.

The first face
of a book born from bruises,
from survival,
from all the things
I once thought
would bury me.

These covers held her
when she first stepped
into the world—

when my name
became something
printed on a spine,

when words written
in the aftermath
became something
someone could hold
in their hands.

Soon,
she will wear another face.

The covers will change.
The story will not.

But somewhere,
there will be copies
that remember
exactly how she looked
when she was born.

The first edition.
The beginning.
The version that existed
before everything changed.

For one week,
you can still hold
the beginning. 🖤