whirlwinds was my first thought on a downcast day of july of two thousand & twenty. it was absurd perhaps, that this was the only word that fit the shadows of feelings i felt that day but in that moment, it felt sane,
almost fateful.

on august five, i wrote aster and it was then that i knew i wanted to place every piece of a
shattered story into my poetry and
every inch of my calloused scars
into the only escape i knew.

it was a waging war between my fantasy and reality and every second, i yearned for more.

this year was disastrous,
a reckless rendezvous,
a faithless seduction,
terrifyingly otherworldly,
and somewhere,
we became our own best nemesis.
and at times, moonlight turned to shadows and it slowly hurt.
so i inked away my fears, my doubts, my stories, my insecurities, my dreams, and every word from the realm of insanity became a piece of me.

there are whirlwinds all around us.

as these poetries have ameliorated me,
i can't help but wonder what would happen when winter arrives and the world is slowing down, to silently watch and feel, northern winds and busy december streets, shining lights and sleepless midnights, it'll be time for me to move on
when winter arrives.

اختتام

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i hope you enjoyed your stay.

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by maseera | my poem attic © 2020.