Inked lives..part two

Each soul,

Caressed and read..

An open book

Ink stained she said..

Diaries of shame and anticipation..

Yet are we not full of love and inspiration?

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An attempt to be heard,

A want to be seen..

Each page wears the markings of the old within..

A tattered soul, a broken heart,

Another bridge burned with smite..

Yet, do you not wish to read between the lines?

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She is the novel, in which your senses soar,

The fictional disease ripping at your soul..

Bring on the dreams within her fantasies,

You read what you want,

and discarded reality,

This, the world which she lives in..