The tantrum inside me
I should not write again. I’ve decided this for the ’n’ th time. Each and every time when love slipped through the fractures of insecurity I decided not to write again.
Every time jealousy cheated on me with masks of care, I decided not to write again.
Whenever I make up my feelings with a daring smile, I decided not to write again.
Everyplace that we wandered, when they brought memories, I decided not to write again.
When I hid my emotions in an indulging silence, I decided not to write again.
But when the bugs of anxiety crawling over my skin start plowing in every night, with the ultimate aim of holding me behind tissues of depression and when my blankets weren’t strong enough to embed those pores...
I go back to the pale pages and bleed until I decide… not to write