Writer’s Melancholy

Every morning her mind
Blooms with voidness
Withers with sadness
In the pot of heart

Memories to water,
Nurture the whatevers
That had scarred her
She tried letting it all go,
forever

Seeking a tryst
instead of trust
Denizen of lexo-lust
The words penned,
were her gust.

~ © 2015 Shruthi Jothsana ~

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