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BRUTAL TENDERNESS
My. My. My.
Sweet Rose
You’ve Blackened my soul.
Obsession, repetition, possession.
Words that begin as affection gather weight. They linger. They claim.
Sprayed in blood red, the language stains rather than decorates. What appears romantic at first glance reveals something more unsettling.
A Field Full of Secrets
Step through the field where the flowers bloom, in the shadow of what stays.
AFTER SUN
These pieces sit in the aftermath.
Sunflowers rendered heavy and imperfect, holding warmth alongside decline.
BLEEDING DRY
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