poem
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We stand at the confessional before a stranger who will never become our friend, baring sins that should never have been spoken into air. Some truths were meant to rot in silence, some names never to pass across the lips of certain company. Letters strung together summon ghosts, dragging us back into a moment in…
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Healing is the part of the journey nobody warned you about. It isn’t the gentle glow we see in movies; it’s a restless itch, the kind that makes you want to crawl out of your own skin when you realize how many years you handed away to people and habits that only ever knelt you…
