p_o_r_f_i_r_i_o
Writing poems saved me from dying. I didn't call for help, and no sirens of an ambulance were heard when my heart needed pumping and my body lacked soul.
These are the poems I wrote when I couldn't speak.
A collection of words I didn't say and messages I didn't send.
These are a quarter of the poems I wrote way back 2021-2023, compiled from my cold, poetic, and monochromatic iceberg.