About H
The Poet in the Firelight
I wrote in silence for years; a candlelit voice buried under ash.
These are the whispers I never meant to share.
A Life Composed in Ashes
I was born in shadows and taught not to speak. Now I speak only in shadows. Poetry became the place I hid what couldn’t be buried: grief, lust, rage, memory, shame.
I never set out to be read. The poems you find here were once scattered in notebooks, hidden beneath floorboards of memory. But time has a way of turning silence into pressure, and pressure into flame.
I write to name what once devoured me. I write for the boy I was, and the man I became.
Ten Truths About H
- I believe in candlelight over artificial lighting.
- I once burned a journal I couldn’t bear to reread.
- I love with a terrifying kind of intensity.
- My poems are never entirely fictional.
- I write by hand before I ever touch a screen.
- I dream in metaphors.
- There’s always music playing, even if it’s just imagined.
- Every poem is a confession.
- I am haunted, happily so.
- “H” is both a mask and a mirror.
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