You see her around—a silhouette of a plain girl in black jeans and gray top. You see how the sun kisses her flaming red hair, matching her blood-painted lips. You see her brown eyes—distant, fixed on nothing in particular. You see her put her pencil between her lips when she thinks, how her forehead creases, how her eyes narrow in slits. You see her—a flitting image of extraordinary ordinariness.
You see her... but she sees everything else.
YOU ARE READING
Written Constellations
Thơ caA constellation of prose, poetry, and verses spun together for a galaxy of love, life, heartache, and hope.
