Sometimes
The cold light strikes
Like a thousand knives, cuts
Appear in your raw wounded flesh,
And then
Blood flows,
Deathly pale, you think you will die
Your body limp, folds up,
Words save you, “I
Love you.”
Sometimes
The cold light strikes
Like a thousand knives, cuts
Appear in your raw wounded flesh,
And then
Blood flows,
Deathly pale, you think you will die
Your body limp, folds up,
Words save you, “I
Love you.”
blindwilderness.wordpress.com 
Beautiful, just beautiful.<3
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You have mastered the Cinquain. Beautifully done ❤
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Thankyou so much Ludia. Hope you are ok x
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Oh wow! Wonderful words, coming from you, who writes such anazing poetry. Thankyou. I often wonder if people get bored with reading this simple format all the time but it seems to suit me! X
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Never mind what people will think. You like it, you write it. And this simple format is not really simple. So you should feel proud of yourself. Xoxo
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I agree it is not simple really. I like the challe ge of trying to put layers of meaning into it. But I do care about people liking what I write, for I feel I wish to share the beauty of pietry, but often also its rawness. I have written some very raw poetry but tend not to post that.
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But I do love what you write and I have no doubt others do too 🙂
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Thankyou. And I, love what you write too. You are in Indua aren’t you? I would love to know about life in India.
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I like it!
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Yes, spending time with my grandchildren and helping my son as he recovers from his car accident. Hope you are well. God bless you sweet friend.
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Outstanding
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Thankyou so much
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Welcome ❤
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