Prologue: A Writer's Vows

This is not a gentle poetry collection. This is a mouthful of bruised petals, a love letter to my flaws, a confession pulled from the wound and stitched back with ink.

These pages do not promise you healing - they promise you honesty, softness sharpened by survival, a place where your hurt can breathe beside mine.

Here, you are allowed to weep, to rage, to kiss your own scars and call them holy.

Read slowly. Bite down. Bleed if you must - but bloom, too. Always, bloom.

Welcome to my fragile, feral bloom. Welcome home.