This winter

i have lived a thousands lives,
yet this winter is like a moth.
it has eaten me up,
from my toenail to my collarbone.
now i am naked. skin in pieces.
this winter, shallow waters of broken promise.
this winter, a conch doused in anaemic water.
i am no human today.
i weep like my ceilings.
wrapped up in my own silent time.

Who would pick me up?
like moon conjuctured upon my laps,
drawing seismic patterns.
its all about this winters.
__________

P.s I may be taking an off from here. You all still can find me on Instagram by the same name.

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my valiant soul

A dreamer and a believer for the upliftment of women rights. A published poet, author, writer. Believes in dancing and cooking amazing food for hungry souls at times. Loves to write and write till the moon is satisfied. My writings can be found at Visual Verse, Indian Periodical, Sick Lit mag, Duane's Poetree, Thistle magazine, among various others. Curator of Olive Skins.

32 thoughts on “This winter”

  3. Wow! Heartfelt poem! Emotional flow as if pains in mind and heart swallowed,
    Have a break🌿🌲🍀🎶💖🌹
    Enjoy somepastry and cake 🎂🍰
    Introspect nothing,
    Retrospect nothing,
    Look at the moon
    Shine with its tune
    Follow your heart
    And paint something more than an art,
    Have a great New year start, cheers 🌹🎶🌲🌿🎄☕💖🎶🌹🌿☕🌲💖🍀🌹🌿

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  13. I love your work. I missed a few posts along the edges of losing myself. I tend to lose myself when I can’t write. But your writing, it’s like you write with hints of me been the lines and that brings the life out of me. May be I’m looking too hard. But I love the feeling.
    I love your work. I love your writing. I love your working.
    Okay, I’m done

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