F. D. Soul’s first collection of poetry and prose.
Written for those who have ever wondered what a heart looks like outside of the human body.
This book is a breath. It’s that plunge into fear as your heart stops as if perhaps it won’t remember how to catch the next beat (but always does). And it’s wincing. Biting the pillow. Laughing even though you can hear your ribs cracking. This book is walking through a Weeping Willow with your fingers outstretched. Continue reading