Iaman_ADDICTED WRITER

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 survivor;
Without you I am a dead spirit.

I am that pregnant woman;
Walking around with baby for nine months,
But, No! Mine is words.
Right from womb I develop feelings;
On my delivery I get pregnant again like a fluffy cloud after rain.
And till eternity, I still remain that pregnant woman.

Nothing in this world worth the smell of my addiction;
With sweet fragrance of enticing words luring heart to comfort.
Nothing in this world could beat the taste of my addiction;
Taste of emotions sweeter than sugar alcohols.
Nothing in this world could beat the touch of my addiction;
Touch of escapism like the hand of a 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 ***** my feelings into my idolize pen;
And ***** it out in phrase and stanzas on my gazing papers like canvas.
To entice you to beauty; be it tragic, happy or haze.

Well, this is my addiction for you after reading;
‘Cause I can feel my magic poesy within you.
So do not wish my pregnancy a safe delivery;
Nor my muttering thunder a swift rain.
Let me get pregnant more till eternity;
To become more addictive than a smoke addict.

©️ emywrites