“She, looked in the mirror and cried but didn’t let her soul to bleed, instead made bruises as roses.”

My heartbeats have filled the directions and glory of love that I receive from him, a meaningful positive calm filled aura in being his.

I stood in the face of fear, with the smirk on my face, baiting it to have a go, so that I can embed my soul in the very aura that kept threatening my sanity.

I am a woman who isn’t enough to be held within the box of mediocrity and rules.

I am love, I am seen and felt fully, I am whole and life, I am a voice and a momentum.

I am a woman whose shadows echo life and light in the dark abyss of life.

Her breaths breathe that every encounter with him is a treasure and blessing uplifting her to royalty.

I am spring that has bore the heat of life’s summer and the chill blast of winter, to die in the autumn multiple times but revive each full moon.

She is a phenomenal woman, a red blood eclipsing moon, with wild and bright phases yet complete and beautiful.

Being on her own, the kingdom of solitude is her power of self awareness and self love.

She metamorphosed into grand ground breaking tales of love, passion, hopes and revival.

Her heart beats with rhythms of sanity mingled with darkness and fierce brutality, she is elixir of life’s poison.

She has the scent of cinnamon summer that the roots of winter absorb.

She is content, free and breathing with ease, the reward of her patience.

She was holding strong to the principle of being respectful and loyal to the pledge of being protective of her boundaries and sanity.

She looks into the mirror, winks at herself, now is the time to evolve into her greatest form.

She had learnt to say NO, after decades of sacrificing her sanity for the sake of other’s smiles.

When you cry I cry and when you hurt I hurt. And together we will try to hold back the floods to tears and despair and make it through the potholed street of life.

Organize, agitate, educate, must be our war cry.

Don’t expect me to cry for the wrong reasons.

Deep in earth my love is lying and I must weep alone.

If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don’t write, because our culture has no use for it.

Which is worse? the wolf who cries before eating the lamb or the wolf who does not.

Which is worse? the wolf who cries before eating the lamb or the wolf who does not.

I absolutely want to have a career where you make’em laugh and make’em cry. It’s all theater.