To the woman- who knows it all

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
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