Dear readers, How have you been all? Even though I write my poetry and words and keep on doing so many various projects to help the writing community and people in general why is there a sudden urge to relax a lot? I agree I need to take a pause. I believe in slow yet productive growth but somehow my mind is getting tired to easily due to all the works I am managing and no its not the stress that I have. It's something else. Anyway, I wrote a short poem about how I feel.
The air burns, with a punctured sniff. the breeze sits on my chest counting my eyelids, backwards and the body swells up without a notion of cold blossoms. The air petrifies my nail, the tears stink, often. It's the forehead, it's the arm or is it my lips that hallucinates? A cobweb, so brutal on my chin blooming like a flower. What do I call it now? The season of spring or a particle of dust.
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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