A muse for my mediocre poetry,
cure for all my sorrows,
answer to all my questions,
key to my heart,
hammer which can tumble down my walls.
That's what you are.
I would be lying if I say that I don't think about you.
You.
Only you are stuck between the coils of my brain.
Flowing through my veins,
capturing my kingdom,
piece by piece,
taking your sweet teasing time to lure every part of me,
be it outside or inside,
slowly and gradually,
you keep invading
and I gratefully keep surrendering.
-Manya Jain
YOU ARE READING
The Flowers
PoetryA compilation of original and hopefully relatable poetry, rants, paragraphs,late night thoughts just talking about love and life in general. I'd appreciate if no one copies anything because these are written by me. Ty.
