Between Bruises & Blooms

A poetry library for the things that bruise us, the things that bloom anyway, and everything we become in between.

Between the Pages

Where the stories I read leave fingerprints on the ones I write.

⚠️ Spoilers Live Here

This corner of the library contains thoughts, reactions, heartbreak, screaming, and poetry inspired by the books I’m reading. Posts may contain major spoilers—including deaths, relationships, plot twists, endings, betrayals, reveals, and the moments that emotionally wrecked me.

Read ahead at your own risk. 📚🖤

Stories don’t always stay inside their covers.

Sometimes a line follows me around for hours. Sometimes a character breaks my heart badly enough that the only reasonable response is to write about it. Sometimes I need somewhere to scream about a death I knew was coming and somehow still wasn’t ready for.

Between the Pages is where all of that lives.

Here you’ll find poems born from fictional wounds, reading reactions, favorite moments, theories, character thoughts, reread heartbreak, and whatever else crawls out of a story and into my notebook.

Some pieces may make perfect sense without knowing the book that inspired them. Others will absolutely ruin something for you if you haven’t reached that part yet. I’ll do my best to make spoilers obvious when I can—but this entire space should be considered spoiler territory.

For the books that bruised me, healed me, haunted me, and made me close the cover just long enough to write.

  • I Will Not Be Afraid
    Sam Cortland’s courage becomes a mirror for anxiety: bravery was never the absence of fear, only the choice to keep moving with it.
  • You Made Yourself the Match
    Nehemia knew her death would ignite Celaena—but revolutions sound much prettier than the body on the bedroom floor.
  • You Married Her Before You Left
    Xaden gives Violet forever and then disappears, leaving her with a husband, a ghost, and a ring that still says forever.
  • The Brother Who Wasn’t Dead
    Brennan’s return is a resurrection tangled with anger, betrayal, and years of grief built around a lie.
  • Even Dragons Grieve
    Tairn and Sgaeyl are not merely bonded; her absence would feel like a second heartbeat being torn from the body.
  • She Came Back to an Empty Sky
    Andarna comes home to the family she chose and finds Sgaeyl missing from the sky—a goodbye she never agreed to.
  • I Still Haven’t Forgiven Moth Flight
    I understand Moth Flight’s grief. I understand why she broke. I still cannot forgive what she did to her kits.
  • Four Kits, Four Clans
    Moth Flight did not only give up her kits—she separated four grieving siblings who had already lost enough.
  • StarClan Can Fight Me Too
    If StarClan helped turn four grieving kits into a lesson about destiny, then the ancestors can line up for the rant too.
  • They Had Already Lost Enough
    The kits had already lost Micah; they did not need destiny to take their mother and each other too.
  • I Understand You and Still Hate Your Choice
    Understanding Moth Flight’s grief does not require forgiving the choice that hurt the kits who needed her most.
  • Rules for Everyone After Me
    Moth Flight turned her own grief into a rule that denied every medicine cat after her the choices she once had.
  • Morally Black
    Morally gray would be generous: dangerous men, dangerous women, revenge, blood, obsession, and love that never pretends to be clean.
  • He Thought He Rescued a Victim
    Leroi opens a basement expecting a victim and discovers Seraphine: wounded, weaponized, and never meant to be tamed.
  • After the Crown Falls
    The crown can fall in a moment; surviving the war and learning what deserves to grow in its ruins takes much longer.
  • Then, You Tried to Mend Me
    Mending is slower than breaking: not rescue, not fixing, but staying beside the wreckage while someone learns to rebuild herself.
  • Ghosts Are Quieter Than My Thoughts
    Old houses, old murders, and fictional ghosts are easier company than the thoughts that refuse to explain themselves.
  • I Read Until I Disappear
    Some nights the only way to quiet my own world is to disappear into somebody else’s until morning.
  • The First Medicine Cat
    Being the first medicine cat does not make every choice wise, especially the wound Moth Flight left inside her own kits.
  • I Fell in Love Too Late
    Lara betrays Aren before she understands she loves him, setting the fire before realizing Ithicana is the home she wants to keep.
  • Nesta Gave It Back
    Nesta’s redemption is not softness—it is choosing love when saving Feyre, Nyx, and Rhys costs her something enormous.
  • The House Was Already Haunted
    Parsons Manor is full of ghosts, but the living shadows watching Adeline are far more dangerous than the dead.
  • It’s Yours Now
    Xaden leaves Violet a marriage, a house, Tyrrendor, and an inheritance when the only thing she would have chosen was him.
  • Mira Was Not Allowed to Die
    Mira does not have to die to make the grief arrive; sometimes the possibility of losing her is enough.
  • The First Shadow at Parsons Manor
    Long before Adeline and Zade, Gigi and Ronaldo left their own shadow inside the walls and journals of Parsons Manor.
  • You Fell in Love With the Woman You Planned to Destroy
    Nothing ruins a perfectly good revenge plot faster than a morally bankrupt man accidentally developing feelings.
  • She Loved Them Like a General
    Lilith loved like a general, and her daughters only fully understood the shape of that love after death stole the chance to ask why.
  • First, You Broke Me
    The cruelest breaking is not bone or skin—it is destroying someone’s certainty until even her own mind feels unreliable.
  • Shade Was Supposed to Come Home
    Shade was supposed to come home; sometimes that one sentence is the whole grief.
  • Fiction Has Better Doors
    Fiction offers doors I can open without fear—and monsters I can turn off when reality starts closing in.
  • The Shape of Sgaeyl’s Absence
    Some names are built to be spoken together; Sgaeyl’s absence leaves even Tairn sounding unfinished.
  • The Worst Thing About an Unreliable Mind
    An unreliable fictional mind mirrors anxiety’s cruelest question: can I trust what my own brain is telling me?
  • The Cat Who Could Not Swim
    He knew he could not swim—and jumped anyway. A poem about sacrifice, remembrance, and the life that continued because one cat chose another’s tomorrow.
  • Don’t Fucking Touch Me
    Violet’s rage at Dain becomes a poem about betrayal, memory, consent, and the boundary that finally gets spoken out loud.
  • My Standards Are Fine, My Books Are Unhinged
    Dark romance lets me stand close enough to fictional danger to feel the heat without mistaking it for something I want in real life.
  • Some Grief Has Whiskers
    Maybe grief doesn’t care what something is made of—blood, memory, or ink. A poem for the fictional losses that somehow become real inside us.
  • I Was Team Edward Before I Knew Better
    Twilight still feels like a house I lived in once: dramatic, haunted, imperfect, and somehow still home.
  • The Nod
    Sometimes goodbye is not spoken. Sometimes it is a nod before the shooting starts.
  • The Man Who Had to Pull the Trigger
    Sometimes leadership is simply being the one willing to carry the nightmare so no one else has to.
  • When the Barn Door Opened
    Hope dies twice when the thing you searched for finally steps into the light already gone.
  • The Case That Got Away
    A case that escaped justice for twenty years becomes a fantasy of reopening the file and finally hearing the lock click.
  • The Ones Who Leave to Save Us
    Some sacrifices look like death, some like disappearance, and some like becoming the very darkness you hoped would save the people you love.
  • The Dead Keep Finding Me
    Fictional grief and real grief blur together when stories reopen old rooms in the heart and the dead keep finding their way back.
  • The Stag King Remembers
    Across worlds, antlers, fire, ancient names, and impossible creatures suggest that old magic remembers connections history tried to bury.
  • Even From My Knees
    I know overwhelmed. I have worn it like another layer of skin. But even from my knees, I would have stayed.
  • Third Time, Same Wound
    Some stories do not become safer with familiarity. They simply learn exactly where to cut.

You’ve been warned. Turn the page anyway. 🥀