If you’ve ever loved something that destroyed you, or destroyed something you loved, these pages are your unmarked grave, dig gently, for you may find yourself lying deep beneath.
I’ve been both, the crime and the confession, the wound that bled and the knife longing to touch the velvet gone.
This is my resurrection, not the undoing of pain, but the alchemy that made it holy. Close this book softly, some ghosts only wished to rest. Leave your qualms, and this time, let it go, let it go…
