Savannah thought love meant softness-until Malik showed her what devotion really looks like. He's chaos wrapped in tattoos and leather, a man with bruised knuckles and a possessive streak that borders on obsession. She's fire and fragility, trying to piece herself together after being shattered by the one man who both ruined and saved her. When pain and passion collide, the line between punishment and worship blurs. Their love isn't gentle. It's raw. It's dangerous. It's addictive. Because Malik doesn't just want her heart. He wants her surrender.

Before I learned how to leave, I learned how to stay quiet. The Letters I Burned is a collection of poems about the weight children inherit, the homes that shape them, and the versions of ourselves that survive long enough to tell the story. Written with unflinching honesty, these poems move through grief, abandonment, longing, rage, and love-not to offer easy answers, but to bear witness to what was lived. Some letters are never meant to be sent. Some are only meant to be survived.