ACHES N' ANGUISH

| INTRODUCTION |

Some wounds do not bleed where the world can see them.

Some live quietly beneath the ribs, hidden in memories, in almosts, in names we still whisper to the dark long after they've gone. Some aches— still felt even after the loss. Others arrive softly, disguised as love or anguish, only revealing their sharpness when the silence settles in.

Aches N' Anguish is a collection born from those wounds.

For me, writing has always been a quiet rebellion— a place where the heart can speak before the mouth finds the courage to. I've always believed that pain has a language of its own: sometimes a whisper, sometimes a storm. This collection was born from the moments I could no longer keep that language locked away.

All of these poems were written three years ago— during nights when writing became my only distraction from the pain I didn't know how to carry. They lived quietly in notebooks, drafts, and hidden corners of my mind for a long time. And only now have I finally found the courage, and the time, to let them exist somewhere beyond myself.

Each poem is a ghost stitched into silence— fragments of hurt I've carried, and fragments I've witnessed in others. Some stories are loud; some barely exist beyond a sigh. But all of them are remnants of something that once lived, once loved, once broke.

Within these pages are ghosted conversations, shattered vows, trembling hopes, phantom pains, and hearts learning how to survive their own ruins. Some poems are personal confessions. Others are reflections of pain witnessed in people I loved, lost, or almost became.

Here, pain is not merely something to endure. It is something to confront, to name, to release into the dark. And maybe, somewhere between these lines, someone will find the shadow of their own ache— and realize they were never alone.

Because even sorrow leaves behind something human.
Something breathing.
And maybe, in the cracks, you'll find the light.