Fragrant words

the ink drop bleeds from my wound of the past

how beautifully, it drops throwing my mask in the sheet

like the vapours colliding the sky

the exuberant eye-catching landscape

 drip , drip it falls on the paper, from my breath to my leg

from my mind to the tree that made this paper

I give my fragrance, wrapped in a fur to my words.

I give breath to my scratched skin



29 thoughts on “Fragrant words

  1. And as from her eyes she came from darkness. I looked into it and there was beauty- and it was fathoms deep . It welled up and it nourished he and all that knew better. She bleeds for this- and I respect her because I expects this.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Words become the fragrance of the poet and like all scents, poets are known by their words – the essence of who they are. We write who we are and our pasts are important to us because they remind us of who were were, help to solidify who we are sculpt who we will become. I love this, MVS!!

    Like

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