And there are secrets in her poetries,
Whispered to the stars and the moon,
Written in the dark paths of her memories,
Living ghosts, haunting and singing songs and proses of tragedies and comedies.
And there are secrets in her words ambiguously.
Casually hurting and soothing to oblivion.
Writing names and places and epochal encounters subtlely,
Catching sparks in the darkness of long forgotten stories.
And there are secrets in her every letters represents.
They are carved down on the pavement of her soul.
Letters beautifully written but never sent.
Letters read by her and not by the one it was intent.