The Manuscript (The life, death and results of a beautiful young man)

Sometimes we don't choose the people we fall in love with. We just fall. Hard. And then we wait for the quiet to stop feeling so heavy. This isn't a book about getting over someone. It's about the 2 AM kitchen floors, the coffee cups left too long on the table, the way your body remembers a touch long after your mind knows it's over. It's about loving past reason, staying past sense, and finally walking away with your shoes untied because stopping to tie them felt like admitting you might turn back. The Manuscript traces the life, death, and slow, uneven resurrection of a beautiful young man and the person who loved him. It's messy. It's full of deleted voicemails, trains that smell like wet wool, and the kind of silence that screams louder than shouting. There's no neat bow here. Just poems that say, me too. If you've ever kept a shirt that still smells like someone who left, or replayed a memory until the static sounded like a voice, this is yours. Breathe. It doesn't fix it. But it might show you where to set the box down.