You know
The gloomy November mornings/
When all you want to do is write about your heart
Wrapped up in soft rose petals/
I'm writing/
Or maybe trying/
I'm crying/
And the words are on the
Tip of my tongue/
It's morning/and all the words are leaving me/again
I'm thinking
/that maybe it's also like searching
For a home/finding it there one moment
And losing it the next
Like Everything, you once held close
To your heart/
But now they are closing onto it/suffocating
And I'm writing
/but I can't remember
any metaphors/to express/to tell/to explain the ache/the serenity /the suffocation
.
.
[It's like ending something
Without an end]
_misbhakhan_🍁
YOU ARE READING
LOST PEGASUS(Poetry Collection)
PoésieIn isolation, my imagination runs wild and this book is the result, a collection of poems that flowed like a stream of consciousness. I've told these poems to the best of my ability, with all the love, words and whimsy they deserve.
