These pages are loud cus you made me bleed the ink

These pages are loud… ‘cause you made me bleed the ink.

Every word you see here?

It’s a scar turned sentence.

A heartbreak turned headline.

A scream I swallowed, now screaming through the pen.

This book isn’t just poetry.

It’s pain in lingerie.

It’s soft rage.

It’s every “I’m fine” I ever said when I was dying inside.

I wrote this from the edge—

Of obsession.

Of healing.

Of almost going back.

But instead, I bled the ink.

So I could stop bleeding for you.

Welcome to the pages I never meant to write—

But had to,

to survive you.