Love, as it once was, a sweater-soft, whole, woven with the threads of love and light. Every stitch held warmth, every fold carried the comfort of belonging. But time frayed the fabric. Maimed and marred it to threads. Joy unraveled into silence, silence into ache, and now it hangs fragile, a ghost of what it once was. Each poem is a strand pulled loose-until what remains is a tapestry of love remembered, grief endured, and rage smoldering in the torn edges. A collection on the perilous verge of breaking, yet beautiful in its unraveling.
Bio:
My heart, back in the days was a sweater-whole, tightly knit, alive with color and warmth. Every thread held joy, every stitch hummed with the softness of love. It wrapped itself around the world like a promise, unbreakable, eternal. But time has a way of tugging at seams. The threads loosened, laughter frayed into silence, and what was once radiant grew pale with ache. Now it hangs delicate, a ghost of what it used to be-barely held together, swaying on the fragile mercy of a single strand, threatening to snap at any moment.