This collection doesn’t ask you to be okay—it simply sits with you in the ruins, whispering gently to your wounds. These poems hold the ache, the grief, and the quiet strength it takes to keep choosing yourself, even on the days when it feels impossible. They don’t promise light, but they remind you it still exists, somewhere beyond the dark.
This is where healing begins—not in perfection, but in presence. In the staying. In the softness that survives.
