Thirsty Ink

The pen I weild in my hand is my only friend. When human minds fail to reciprocate my darkness, he kisses my hand till secrets unveil themselves only to drown in his soft embrace. As the black liquid oozes from its faithful end I sit back & watch the wonders of my thoughts indulging in a dalliance with the previously blank page. It’s like watching a timid sinner give in to all that’s good in this world. I believe truth to be our only saviour. My pen births newer parts of my soul each day. Parts that I have been watering for ages when all I ever needed was a drop of ink. Flowers don’t grow inside me, ravenous pages do and I need to feed them. I do.


10 thoughts on “Thirsty Ink

    1. Oops, my bad! Thanks for pointing it out 😁 I’m so sorry for the late response, I haven’t been active on my blog then I couldn’t log in for some reason!


    1. Hi!
      Thank you so much for saying that, I’m truly humbled 😊 I don’t know I guess it depends on my mindset. Like, if I’m writing on a certain topic then I do my research and stuff so it takes just a day or two otherwise I write poetry whenever I’m in the mood to! It’s hard to give a concrete answer because words come to me unexpectedly, mostly in the middle of the night πŸ˜…

      Liked by 1 person

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