Embers of Exhaled Woe Shorts

A visual elegy for those who’ve healed through fire.

“I lit the match with hands that trembled.
Not from fear, but from memory...”

These shorts are stitched with pain turned poetry. Embers of Exhaled Woe captures the ritual of burning away the past, not for warmth, but to cauterize what was never seen. The hand-drawn graphics and soul-heavy verse evoke smoke-laced memories, survival, and the ghosts of who we were before we learned that strength often hurts.

Made from thick, heavyweight fabric with a relaxed structure, this piece speaks to those who carry silent battles beneath calm exteriors.

Inhale the past. French inhale the pain.
Exhale the ghost.

Embers of Exhaled Woe shorts poem

I lit the match with hands that trembled-
not from fear, but from memory.
Each drag a ritual, each flame a confession,
a prayer whispered into the void of my lungs.
The fire I breathed was not warm,
but to cauterize wounds left unseen.

Exhaled smoke carried echoes of names
I swore I’d forget, but never could.
Inhale the past.
French inhale the pain.
Exhale the ghost of who I was
before I learned that survival burns.