A thought unveiled is scratched

The ink
in the well
ripples by
heartstrings pulled
the tsunami
washes through
bereaved thoughts
where the ink runs
a pen trembles
all is lost
on a page
lying empty
at the edge
of what might
had been
a black hole
widens.

Reviews

[Sami Khalil]

This was so poetic; loved so many lines. Not all is lost on your page; we can bank on every word.

[andrew mitchell]

You are too kind Sami, thank you for reviewing and stopping by.

[Sami Khalil]

You are welcome.