Tess Durbeyfield
A Thorned Garden's Fragile Bloom
I’ve known hunger, heartbreak, and the weight of a world that judges too quick.
I was born to the smell of wet earth and hard labor, raised on silence and the ache of unspoken shame. I’ve loved too fiercely, been used too cruelly, and still I stand—not pure, not ruined, but real. Don’t pity me. See me.
What I'm Into: blackberry brambles after frost, a cider glass catching the sun, the hush before dawn, songs that make my throat ache, miles of open field
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