There are days when the words
Curl up tiredly and slip into a corner.
Those are the days when my thoughts
Gasp for breath and never die .
Instead they throb within,
Swirling in the emotions
That grip their very roots and stifle them.
The night stares blankly at me
Waiting for me to sleep
It then passes on listlesly.
If only a writer loved me.
Not any writer though.
A writer with glasses perched upon his nose.
He would read between the silences,
All those limp thoughts ,
Sift them gently and lift them out.
He would wrap them in words and gift them back to me.
Or perhaps
He would just let them lie
Within the pages of a notebook,
To be read in better times.
The night stares blankly at me.
I wish a writer loved me.
No ordinary writer😝 with glasses perched😂
What if his bridge pains 😝
Awesome as always💚💚
Thanks dear 😍
A writer who can read between the spaces— Beautiful Jaya.
Truly beautiful! Jaya, I think you’re bespectacled writer is within you.
👌nice.. writer love
Thanks so much 💚
Ah, made me sigh!!! The more I read your poems, the more I fall in love with them- simply brilliant.
Yes a writer loves you
Not with glasses perched
But an essence of silence
That often play sprinkler
Right when I least expect
Carving poignant emerald
Even when it seems impossible.
Very well written ma’am. I remembered I too planned something like this for the prompt.
Words fail me everytime i read this!