The year began in a blur of fatigue and commitments, a time when both body and mind demanded more patience than usual. Yet, amid that overwhelming start, something profoundly personal found its way into the world—my first book, Bleeding Vermillion Hues, was published in the very first month of the year.
At its core, Bleeding Vermillion Hues is an exploration of emotion in its rawest form. It moves through shades of love, longing, rupture, and quiet resilience—each piece carrying the intensity of lived experience. The vermillion becomes both symbol and substance: of passion, of identity, of wounds that refuse to remain hidden and instead choose to speak.
What makes the work deeply intimate is its seamless connection between poetry and song. Many of the poems breathe with an inherent rhythm, almost as if they were waiting to be sung. The words do not merely sit on the page—they echo, they linger, they invite melody. In that sense, the book exists at the intersection of verse and music, where poetry transforms into song, and song returns as poetry, completing a circle of expression that feels both personal and performative.
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