Once upon a time, there was a poet whose poems didn’t just rhyme – they burned. None of this “love-dove-above-the-heavens” nonsense; her words lit the page as if the ink itself were flammable. Her throat, clogged with ash, sang lines that made the wind hold its breath, afraid to interrupt her. But one day, after singing her most dangerous song – “In My Flame” – she realized: she needed HIM. Not just a muse, but an image, a spark that scorched her soul,...