r e m n a n t s [on an indefinite hiatus]

Chapter fourty-two: pen

she wrote down the words that were long ached to be known;

as the ink paints the empty paper the feelings she could never show;

he's happy and so is she;

for him at least;

because the pen has finally ran out of ink;

she tried to shook away her tears with a blink;

but she couldn't take it anymore;

and somehow she knew writing could ease away her pain;

it may never reach him, but at least it reached the part of her heart, enough to save her from herself;

who knew pens could be heroes?