by Hané L., 13
An author,
I call myself.
I write storms and births.
I write winds and kisses.
Everything I am
I give in a piece of paper.
Everything we were
I compile to make it safer.
And I guess
it’s not fitting for me
to blame you for all of this
so
this page is dedicated to you.
And most of the pages next.
Red Bank, New Jersey
Bridge Ink 