and yet she spoke of you in words that haven't been uttered;
sang of you in songs that'll never be heard;
breathed life of you in her poetry only to be kept hidden;
between the pages of books and locked away in her mind;
you will forever be her own kind of pandemonium.
YOU ARE READING
r e m n a n t s [on an indefinite hiatus]
Poetrya collection of poems and untold feelings