This space gathers lines that linger and stories that stay,
fragments of a life lived in sharp clarity and soft blur.
Moments I couldn’t carry alone,
so I wrote them instead.

Inside are poems, pages, and songs for the quiet hours.
For the times when memory feels heavier,
when the heart pulls at its own edges,
when silence finally tells the truth.

My work is writing that remembers what we forget.
The breath before the confession,
the bruise beneath the laughter,
the ghosts of feelings that never really left.

Think of this as a collection of things that needed saying,
assembled slowly, honestly,
from the parts of my life that insisted on being seen.

If these words find you, if they echo something familiar,
stay as long as you want.
There’s space for you in the in-between.