HER

HER is not a love story.
It's a slow-burning unraveling of me, my silence, my longing, my truth.

This collection lives in the space between what was said and what was felt.
It's about HER, the girl who became a universe I couldn't stop orbiting.
She never asked to be my sun, but I kept spinning around her anyway.

Through fragments of poetry, confessions, and journaled emotion, HER explores what it means to want someone who doesn't belong to you, not fully, not clearly, not yet.
It's about speaking in code because honesty feels too dangerous.
About vulnerability offered too late.
About how one person can feel like gravity, and how staying silent can still break you louder than words ever could.

These aren't just pieces of writing.
They're pieces of me, the versions I've hidden, the feelings I've buried, the truths I only admit on paper.

HER is not just about her.
It's about me.
The boy who loved loudly in silence.
And the healing that only came once I bled on the page.