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I am writing a poem

No... it does not seem nice... I need to use more concrete imagery and add detailing...
"Are you talking to yourself?"
"Yes I think so."
"This new writing app has made you insane."
"I don't think so because playing PUBG hasn't  yet turned you into a schizophrenic."
Together our sense of humor turns into a bad joke. We stopped conversing and slept at our different times.

The sun was full bright in the morning like a cheerful adolescent kid. My morning begins with basking in the sun, watering plants and making a rough plan of the day in my mind. I feel so complete in the morning.

Rest of the day till midnight, I feel like a single mother. The last night's unfinished poem keeps me occupied for the whole day. This kind of incomplete is so fulfilling because at the end I know I can complete it.

Rishabh comes late in the night. Not so tired, but he seeks 'me time' too. After dinner he goes for a long walk, when he returns, our son has mostly slept. As soon as my son sleeps, I carry on with my unfinished work, today, it is this poem. He returns from the walk and finds me in the company of that app. I am struggling with the poem. He might have thought of 'spending time' with me. But a moment's uncertainty brings him back to his mobile.

At last, I finished the poem feeling a little bit incomplete. Shapeless thoughts again begin to form in the mind. I look at him. His face is stiff now like when the target is in close proximity. The lines on his face show teeming enthusiasm. He shouts with excitement. Begins to guide his team mates. His conversation begins with them. I fall asleep with another poem in my mind. Incomplete, waiting to be completed next day.

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when colors speak...

It is so real, isn't it?  I loved the colors... Woods are calling me.... A silence... A path... A spiritual feeling... drowning in Orange effect   - Vincent Van Gogh