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

chapter seventy-five

and so she imprints it on a paper,
desperately wishing that it would seal the time,
where she lived, and grieved,
as well as loved,
hoping that in her next lifetime,
she would stumble upon that book again,
innocently scavenging through the pages,
and having it touch her soul,
oblivious to the fact that
it was her memories all along