free verse
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Between shadow and soul, bruises, grief, cigarettes, rescue, and blooming all belong to the same map of becoming.
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Somewhere between packed boxes and the road out of British Columbia lived the quiet thought that almost made her stay.
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A quiet hope that her name lives in someone else’s silences as often as theirs lives in hers.
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Someone slips quietly into every thought until affection becomes wildfire and even tomorrow begins wearing their face.
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Love ruins poetry in the best way when one person begins haunting every metaphor, every page, and every unwritten name.
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A tender confession about carrying someone like a protected secret and wondering what they would do if they knew.
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Healing is not forgetting the past—it is learning to love the version of yourself who survived it and kept choosing tomorrow.
Between Bruises & Blooms 