SUEDE the poet
Bio
English Teacher by Day. Poet by Scarlight. Tattooed Storyteller. Trying to make beauty out of bruises and meaning out of madness. I write at the intersection of faith, psychology, philosophy, and the human condition.
Stories (51)
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The Room that Remembered. Content Warning.
He woke on cold stone, cheek pressed against grit. A throb pulsed behind his eyes—deep, steady, like a slow hammer striking bone. When he tried to move, pain shot through his shoulders. His wrists were bound behind him with coarse rope, tight enough to bite.
By SUEDE the poet4 months ago in Fiction
When Winter Comes South
Winter doesn’t so much arrive in Florida as it drifts in like a rumor—soft, uncertain, apologetic about the inconvenience. The palm fronds never quite lose their green; the sky doesn’t bruise itself into snow clouds; the cold only lingers long enough to make you question whether you imagined it. But every year, sometime after Thanksgiving, the air shifts. It smells different—cleaner, sharper, like citrus peeled open too fast. And that’s when the ritual begins.
By SUEDE the poet5 months ago in Humans
