The other day I thought of writing a poetry about healing About self- love, growth Nonsense. My tone is still abrupt, crooked, melancholic Orange like the winter sun My hands are yet pale. Yellow as the home cooked oil, The other day I thought of writing about memories that soothe me Motionless. About the barren walks Only to find how my head still bleeds The mind that has empty grass, Wild flowers not beautiful my friend, Everything wild is not beautiful for things need a foundation too. Everything I know is rust Everything I know is blue rain, Forgotten like the rains so beautiful Forgotten like the winter chills in the Summer. Healing is a slow process Coiling into a watery prayer.
I wrote my poetry book – Crimson Skins out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here- IT’S AVAILABLE AT HALF THE COST ON POTHI.:) I have posted the reviews for my book in past posts, check it out if you are skeptical. I would appreciate it. Crimson skins – US Crimson Skins- POTHI Subscribe to my newsletter- https://tinyletter.com/my_valiant_sou
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.
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