I think you should know better
that I couldn't sleep without
being blanketed by a continent
of darkness comforting my demons
to sleepthat I can never form
letters
imprinting the carbon data of my
reckless thoughts onto papers
without my hands trembling and
nails digging into my own flesh
till it bleeds when it mustbecause raw materials startle me
beyond fathomable fear for
incorrigible mistakes
like the ghastly sight of blotted
inks and the misspelt syntax of
my silhouettesthat no matter
how I hard I tried to be a beaker
of sanctified light
certain region of my heartland shall
always remain tender
and melancholic
spilled with cups of volatile darkness
and trace of death
along the wet pavementAnd that
I might never be able to
talk about certain things
unless I speak them in our
intimate language of love
YOU ARE READING
Heartland
PoetryShe reigns her heart , a chaotic kingdom, a sacred land. 'Poems find you , let it be' - Nayirrah Waheed