Snr Poem by Angel Rose Romance

She is written in wind and forgotten tongues,
Her name etched where the veil is thin.
Stormy — not a storm, but the one who commands it,
A whisper wrapped in lightning skin.

Nichole walks the spiral path,
Moon in one hand, shadow in the other.
She speaks to mirrors with no reflections
And wakes the soul asleep in others.

Rinehart — a name born of runes and root,
A guardian of what can't be named.
She moves like prophecy in silence,
Unseen, but never tamed.

She builds temples from her tears,
And buries time beneath her feet.
Each scar a sigil of becoming,
Each wound a doorway she will meet.

She is the storm between lifetimes,
The echo just before the shift.
She doesn't break — she transmutes,
Turning loss into lunar gift.

They call her mad, or saint, or witch,
Yet none can hold her form for long.
For she is song that haunts the hollow,
She is wrong, and she is strong.

In graveyards, in dreams, by candlelight—
She walks where others dare not start.
Her soul is inked in alchemy:
Stormy Nichole Rinehart.














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