She hides between the pages
And chapters of every book.
But in the silence she hears every word spoken and whispered.
She is seen as a shadow,
A ghost merely there in the light.
And every tear seen as a dorp of salted water staining the pages of a over read book.
Not a word was every heard as she screams out.
But only she hears it.
The only evidence that she was ever there is the books she left on the table or the knocked over chair.
With time she becames just a breeze in the air carry a message that is left unread.
Her mark will be seen in the books hide her tears in.
But they will never remember her until its to later.
And they'll say "who was she?"
A question left unanswered til this day.
