Part 1

Moonlit Bruises is a bleeding garden of poems,
midnight whispers stitched with sorrow,
and the kind of heartbreak that hums under the skin long after the fire dies.
I write this with the softness of dusk
and the ache of a wound that still remembers his name.
These are the bruises kissed by moonlight,
not healed, not hidden, just...
beautiful in their breaking.