Poem: The Wine Of Her Thoughts
The strings of words weaved in her brain leave only addiction in their wake.
Her beauty is her brain,
The entire world is under her reign,
Her words are spoken to make her shine,
Moreish are her thoughts like a vintage wine…
Her lips are sealed,
Beneath the assessing eyes are her motives concealed,
An attitude that keeps everyone in line,
Compelling are her thoughts like a vintage wine…
Her words are a melody,
Her entire being is a pull of gravity,
In the world of nonsense talks, her syllables are a ray of sunshine,
Hypnotic are her thoughts like a vintage wine…
Every word of hers makes sense,
The truth glistens in them, there’s no grudge and no vehemence,
Her personality calls for a shrine,
Efficacious are her thoughts like a vintage wine…
There’s no place more beautiful and serene for a writer than her own head. We could spend weeks and months lost in our thoughts which I believe are worse than any kind of addiction.
Do you relate?
I’d love to know if you do.
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Thank you for reading!
