Monday, 9 February 2015


Wash over me
Like winter rains...

emptying me of themselves,
only to collect
in puddles
at the bottom of my feet

in those puddles,
I glimpse again,
Reflections of them
Of me...

Having left, they never did leave
Like rains go back
To being rains.

My insecurities stay,
looking up at me
as if,
through my own eyes.

My insecurities
sweep over me,
drenching me as I try
to step away in vain;

Insecurities hurt-
A sharp, bitter pain.
Insecurities hurt
like the winter rains...