Streaming tearsdown my face,ever flowingnot from sadnessnor grief. A frenzy you createdwithin my body,immense emotions flying,overwhelming mewith nowhere to gobut to trickle downmy cherry-red cheeks.

In the beginning,Winter stood over me,a god with iron breath,cold as fuck,asking whether I would kneelor survive. January split my ribs openand called it birth.Blood remembered motion.The year accepted me. February came robed in red,a god who does not bargain.It taught...

Perhaps the heartwas not made to break, but to stretchbeyond what's believedit could survive. The cracksare not proofof weakness. They are evidencethat loveonce lived there. Each sorrowcarves deeper. Some woundsbecome scars, not to remind usof what we lost, but to honorwhat we carried, all we endured, and lifestill...