And that's just it: someday, when she's gone, people will come looking for her. But it will be too late before they realize that she's everywhere. That she has left traces of her, tiny pieces of her soul, to every people she's ever known. And then they'll remember that her name starts with an H, that she was a girl. The girl who writes, who kept writing... until the very end.
YOU ARE READING
Written Constellations
PoetryA constellation of prose, poetry, and verses spun together for a galaxy of love, life, heartache, and hope.
