Happy new month, readers

I hope this post meets you in impeccable health. My first post this month is a three-piece series that I have already posted on my Instagram and Twitter pages (Do follow me @smalleewrites on both platforms), but I like it so much that I just had to share it with you guys.

I hope you enjoy it.

1: Writer’s Block

I don’t write poems anymore;
Every time I put my pen to paper,
I end up writing stories
Cut into bits and pieces,
Lines and stanzas.

I don’t write poems anymore
But I can give life to words.
I didn’t use to bother with
Making them rhyme
But all that’s changed with time.

I don’t write poems anymore
Because then there’d be evidence
Of the arrows that hit this heart,
Making it feel love’s sting and want
Things it has no business wishing for.

– SmalleeWrites✍

2: If Wishes Were Horses

If wishes were horses,
We’d be a mixture of
Love and magic
And I won’t be stuck
Wishing all the time
That my heart wasn’t
Being dragged by one (horse)

If wishes were horses,
I’d be able to write
Like grown up poets do-
With similes and metaphors,
Serve these words to you
On a platter of gold
But wishes aren’t horses
And all I am is a little girl
With a phone and a heart

That’s full of love

For you.

– SmalleeWrites✍

3: I Am

I am caged;
Even more so as time drags its feet-
Love, the cruel tormentor
And unrequited its last name.

I am weightless;
There’s nothing left in this vessel
After all its content has been given
Out to one who has no use for it.

I am numb;
All of my senses swept away by love
And slowly what’s left of my feelings is
Lost as a light is lost in light.

I am weak;
I badly want to fight these emotions
But it’s scary because all the ones before
Were nothing more than a drop in the ocean.

I am grateful
For this thick soft skin
That’s gotten me through the worst days
And hints at a better morrow in many ways.

I am committed;
To breathing in and out,
Taking it one day and one step at a time,
And to loving myself without a doubt.

– SmalleeWrites✍

To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.

– Robert Frost

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