Saturday, September 12, 2015

Anahit Arustamyan writes


This restless wind wanted me to be homeless. My tongue plays with these springing words but my shadow is speechless. Only this clock has talked to so many years as its brain is sleepless. I collided with my broken window and ripped my skin as I was careless. Who am I in this wind's madness? This broken window would invite the wind and my shadow's sadness. If I wasn't a
spirit I would plant a tree whose leaves would knit my happiness. I would love the sun to be your umbrella as most rains bring darkness. If I wasn't a spirit my love wouldn't be helpless. I would love my key to open your door as my love is endless. The wind swept my door as it suffered from blindness. If my key opened your door my nights wouldn't be starless.


  1. Anhait wishes to plug her newest collection of prose poems, THE QUEEN OF METAPHORS: THE TONGUE OF MY MUSE.


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