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After A Long Time, I Am Writing About Love

By Ishita Singhal

It wasn’t a rainy season,

where I could smell the freshly washed leaves.

It wasn’t an interesting book,

which lead me to a character’s story.

It wasn’t a romantic movie,

which made me cry out loudly.

It wasn’t an outside indulgent,

Which helped me, carry out, my pen for writing.

It was a sound of a hammer striking loudly

at the wall of my neighbor’s.

It was an online class

that made me sit through an entire hour and wonder.

It was the budding threads of goals and dreams,

which I was weaving for my future.

It was a creative excitement of making

something bold and greater.

It was definitely my inside

talking to my body parts that work for my living.

It was a self-love generation

pushing hard to build my life into an acoustic dream.

It was me after all, finally me, living for myself

and wanting to breathe.

By Ishita Singhal

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