Ink slowly pulled along paper,
unfurling black emotions bulleting through the tunnels of veins
bleeding red into her empty heart,
drawing white mountains and fiction stories that echo and sing through hidden trees when the wind blows and rustles their old leaves
Till one day,
someday,
they will melt away into nothingness with the rain that erases them
Ghosts rise from words once written
feelings once felt
long ago,
long ago
Dear,
do you still remember me?
