I do not collect memories. I brand them onto the soft flesh between breath and bone, where they can ache without fading.

If I am to be loved,let it not be for the shadows I cast but for the way I keep lighting the same small flame in a world that forgets...

It began with a whisper I wrote to myself in the dark. Not for anyone to read, not even for memory just to keep the ache from hardening....

You didn’t know it then how radiant you were, even in your silence. You tried to fold yourself into shapes you thought the world could...