she’s clutching onto passion,

with liquid eyes,
masking her past.
“How can I trek through
the sand dunes of life?”
her heartbeat speaks.
love is invented memories,
waiting to meet destiny,
and playing with her death.
it flows through her veins,
tangled, twisted with time.
her past may have
disappeared into fog,
but not erased.
somewhere it lingers,
like her memory,
threaded with magic,
and secured with love.

This is a found poem I wrote  from Isabel Allende's Paula.

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