Kintsugi in shadow and gold.
They said she was ruined.
But they didn’t see the alchemy.
The way her shattered edges caught the moonlight—
how her sorrow was stitched with starlight and ash.
She rose, not untouched,
but remade—
each crack kissed by a gilded sorrow,
each fracture a vow whispered in midnight’s tongue.
She was not made to be flawless.
She was made to be eternal.
And her scars?
They were her crown.
— The Gothic art of becoming:
Kintsugi in shadow and gold.

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