Ink Ink trickles from pen I exist I bleed I write Squeezing my soul dry **** Writing a poem is slow, painful and cathartic. Feelings translated into syllables and words are painstakingly wrenched from the soul and poured onto a blank page. It’s excruciating, disturbing, and always frustrating, but there’s no alternative. It’s the onlyContinue reading “#AtoZChallenge ‘I is for Ink’ #Haiku #NaPoWriMo #PoetryMonth”
Rereading Jane Eyre 