fantasy poetry
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Some people leavebecause they are cowards. Some leavebecause staying would cost too much. And some— some tear themselvesout of your lifewith both hands bleeding,because they have convinced themselvestheir absenceis the only gift they have left. A mother stands at the edge of deathand chooses her children. Not softly.Not beautifully. No final lullaby,no gentle apologyfor every…
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Maybe worlds do not forget. Maybe they only bury things— beneath oceans,beneath stone,beneath fifteen thousand yearsof new namesfor old gods. Maybe an antler thronecan burn in one worldand rise again in another. Maybe someone carried it. Maybe someone lied. Maybe history,like magic,has always knownhow to slip between cracks. Because somewhere,a king sits beneath the weightof…
Between Bruises & Blooms 