Left the bed undone The toothbrush dry The curtains drawn The coffee machine, uncleaned The footwear skewed Keys and key stains on the key holder The leaves left to turn golden And unused perfume bottle in the drawer The floor remains like an open ground Opened and closed eyes for the sense of another day
Its not about how small your world is, its about how occupied it is.
Its not always the kind of vacasion you need. You know what I mean?
to paint rainbows on our bedside, aren't we too old for that?
I came across this beautiful piece written by a dear friend. And as much as I understand her, I was so overwhelmed that I had to write to her! Writing is not difficult at all You take a pen and paper Pretend it’s a needle and thread And stitch your torn tissues with strung letters … Continue reading A letter to my dear one.
Too dramatic you say? Here's what anxiety feels like!
When you thought you were a chapter in someone's story.
See that's the thing about being a writer...
The one after me...