Long Sleeve

The conversation ends. What it left behind stays.

This piece is about the things you keep hearing after everyone else has gone quiet.

You can miss someone and still know they cannot come back into your life. The empty space does not always mean you made the wrong choice.

This piece is about grieving a person, a future, and the version of you that existed with them.

Some days, absence takes up the whole room. You learn to carry it without knowing where to put it down.

A piece for what stays with you after something is gone.

You got up. You answered. You did what you had to do. None of that means it stopped hurting.

This piece is about carrying pain through an ordinary day, and trying to make something out of it.

You keep calling something beautiful because admitting it has become lonely, unhealthy, or over would make it real. The garden stays alive in your head while the real thing quietly dies.

The lie is: if it still looks beautiful, it cannot be hurting me.