Solely listening to the music
that touches my senses.
The water drops to the ground
from the raindrops sky.
Searching some warm stuff
to embrace the shaking-self.
Slowly took a step, a weak self.
Getting a blanket.
The warm bed laying by the fragile lady
that divulge her vulnerability.
Sipping the smoky black coffee that
hasty to flow on her throat.
The fluid scatter to her belly and
spread like a virus to her body.
Sighing from the thoughts she
was thinking that it will fade like an eraser.
The loneliness she felt
is from the heartache.
She sought the happiness and
pain was given.
The lady was the writer itself.
February 08, 2019
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Journal
PoetryStoring all my emotions here by making poetries. Since, I can only construct poetries when I feel sad, unwanted, worthless or happy sometimes so hoping you appreciate my masterpiece.
