1d
Title: Out of the Reliquary of Broken Self
I forgot the shape of my name
but not the ache it left in my mouth.
Memory fractured.
Flight stitched from ash.
Still, I flew.
I forgot the shape of my name
but not the ache it left in my mouth.
Memory fractured.
Flight stitched from ash.
Still, I flew.
Author’s Note (optional):
> This is the opening fragment of a collection shaped by memory, survival, and the silence that follows grief. Each piece stands as a reliquary—etched in ash, haunted by flight.
>
> I write not to remember, but to carry what forgetting left behind.
> This is the opening fragment of a collection shaped by memory, survival, and the silence that follows grief. Each piece stands as a reliquary—etched in ash, haunted by flight.
>
> I write not to remember, but to carry what forgetting left behind.
