I would die willingly;
If it kills me to leave you.
I am that muttering thunder;
That never stop until it rains.
With you I am only a survivor;
Without you I am a dead spirit.
I am that pregnant woman;
Walking around with a baby for nine months,
But, no! Mine are words.
Right from womb I develop feelings;
On delivery, I get pregnant again like a fluffy cloud after rain.
And till eternity, I still remain that pregnant woman.
Nothing in this world is worth the smell of my addiction;
With sweet fragrance of enticing words luring my heart to comfort.
Nothing in this world can beat the taste of my addiction;
Taste of emotions sweeter than sugar alcohols.
Nothing in this world can beat the touch of my addiction;
Touch of escapism like the hand of the Holy Spirit.
Do you think I was talking about cigarette?
Smiles! Writing is my substance of addiction;
When I zestfully mix the powdered emotional thought to beauty,
When I snuff my feelings into my idolized pen;
And vomit it out in phrases and stanzas on my gazing paper like canvas.
To entice you to beauty; be it tragic, happy or hazy.
Well, this is my addiction for you after reading;
‘Cause I can feel my magic poesy within you.
So do not wish me a safe delivery;
Nor my muttering thunder a swift rain.
Let me get pregnant more till eternity;
To become more addicted than a smoke addict.