[ this man I call him by his name ]

he coloured me purple - somewhere between bruising and devotion.

this collection drips with longing, bodies, softness, secrecy, obsession, and the quiet violence of being known too deeply. each poem moves through touch, memory, religion, womanhood, ache, and colour like a wound trying to bloom.

for the ones who loved too loudly.
for the ones who became unrecognizable after affection.
for the ones who carry whole storms beneath their tongues.

these poems do not ask to be understood.
only felt.