Through poems that move between lyrical prose and spoken-word cadence, Alhanislam writes about love in its many disguises, grief that arrives beside joy, friendships that save us quietly, and the sentences we swallow for the sake of peace, timing, and survival. These poems are intimate without apology. They do not explain themselves. They listen. They stay. Some are meant to be read in silence. Others demand to be heard, breathed into, felt in the body.
This book is not an attempt to make time behave. It is an attempt to make it confess. To slow it down just enough to name what it took, what it left behind, and what it changed while pretending to pass through harmlessly. For readers who have loved deeply, lost quietly, and are still learning how to live with what remains, this book is a place to pause.
