A book of horrors lives in her head.
Its contents are the remains of her past.
The place she has no wish to revisit.
You only know her name, not her story.
Never ask her to tell you what haunts her still
if you are not willing to hold her hand.
Her mind is a battlefield.
A no-mans land but
if you are brave enough to walk with her through the trenches and wade knee-deep in the mire.
You will find a fire.
The flames of her love will then set you ablaze,
only if you dare to look beyond her book cover and her name.
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