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Between Bruises & Blooms

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

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July 22, 2026
Ghost of the First Exhale
At four in the morning, she misses the heavy quiet that once softened sleeplessness, anxiety, and the relentless sprint inside her mind.
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Some things bruise. Some things bloom. Some become poems.

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