Launchorasince 2014
← Stories

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