Figments

She’s a taciturn ghost

At the back of the room

Speaking in silver poetry

And in dead languages

But no one could hear her

.

She’s a mere phantom

In everyone’s faded mind

Translucent, except for

The scarlet ribbons

Threaded through her veins

.

You can only see her

At the very corner of your eyes

And if you ever briefly turn

Your head to try to find her…

S h e  w a s  n e v e r   t h e r e

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