Unread
“It stayed unopened. But not unfelt.”
You didn’t open it. You didn’t have to.
Something in your hands already knew it wasn’t safe to read.
But that doesn’t mean it didn’t get inside.
Absence leaves bruises too.
“It stayed unopened. But not unfelt.”
You didn’t open it. You didn’t have to.
Something in your hands already knew it wasn’t safe to read.
But that doesn’t mean it didn’t get inside.
Absence leaves bruises too.
Little Thorn writes in whispers and edits in candlelight.
She leaves voice notes in strange places and stories where hands used to be.
Part siren, part scribe—she creates for the ones who feel too much and the ones who never got to.
She believes in sacred slowness, unapologetic longing, and that sometimes the best way to touch someone…
is to never let them see you coming.
“You don’t have to know me. You just have to feel what I meant.”
