Every time I try to untouch the tides of trauma the same oceanic depths of grief grabs my empty oyster shells on the shore which I try hard to conceal. No matter how many times the waves are sent away from my shore of frozen notions, sinking me in, stabbing me deep they flood silently in and out of my shells.
You think that you know her But you don’t know how good she can hide an ocean in her waves of notions. You can’t even touch her disquiet as they are swimming in the brew of a wild storm Maybe you know her.. but just a part of her frozen notions which she peddles you knowingly
Shrieking inside but frostbitten screams. They sprouted strangely on the slip knot of empty clouds Queerly tangled on torrents in an expunged dimension of time they showered into nature's palette. where the frozen notions swanned vividly though the wilderness of a bamboo forest until a night breeze began to whisper her name..
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