I Found Me

I Found Me

I found me
At a scene engulfed by ink
On a whitish bed it riddled
And in the offing, sighted I my fears;
My pains and heart ache slunk

If the new me was mere fiction
Then I was yet lost
My joy streams, surges and scends
As though the tempest danced
To the rhythm of my sensuality

In isolation my pleasure dwells
Where love and romance play
And I the Scribe
Call the shot

Love spilled—ran through me
At each second, minute and hour
the squat pen rest between my fingers
painting a pigment—bluish and black

There I found love
Sprawling on my new white bed
Like a pregnant woman in labour
Awaits I a feeling of satisfaction,
I was once deprived

There I found me

Why not share?

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