Till the haphazard emotions of mine brim,
We'll breathe.
I'll live,
Till our eyes still see the faded memories
Warm and smiling.
I told myself so -
Bleak and blurred edges of a confined space,
Merged into a swirling depth,
My vision darkens
Four senses together
Sees a picture play out.
I am mum.
Under the feathers of irony I am buried
Our souls chained in the cage I created
Rather content in being barred
What should I do?
The names are only increasing
Will I soon forget my own?
About the Creator
Azreen Mahmood
i write
to make sense of what's wrong around me
to let my emotions find a place
to say there's another perspective, always
if you like what i have to say a small tip would be much appreciated,
thank you for taking the time and interest <3
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More stories from Azreen Mahmood and writers in Poets and other communities.
One Minute to Noon
“OK, guys!” I screech over the macaw-like chatter in my sophomore English class. My students are sharing mementos they accumulated during summer vacation. The assignment is to interview each other and write an expository essay about another student’s treasure: Misty’s coquina shells and sand dollars from Florida, Ruth’s two Navajo pottery mugs from New Mexico, Roxy’s perfume from Paris, Kevin’s chocolate from Hershey Pennsylvania, a picador’s sword from a bullfight in San Fermin Spain, where one of my favorite students, Manny Pérez, ran with the bulls at festival.
By Lacy Loar-Gruenler4 days ago in Fiction
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