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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.
BLEEDING DRY
AFTER SUN
These pieces sit in the aftermath.
Sunflowers rendered heavy and imperfect, holding warmth alongside decline.
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