Sunday Morning's

By Tavisha

After the six days of war she settles down on her couch within the four walls 

Rare rhythm of calmness settling in her lotus eyes 

Lotus Eyes which silently mourn  under the pile of chores on the days of storms

Dead bodies walking all around 

Her breathing stops the world outside Is too loud

After six days she finally shuts her pink door 

Sunday mornings is time she finds herself back home 

The flowers on her pillow 

The soft petal mattress 

The scented candles that purify her soul 

The guitar strings stitching her wounds 

Her ears stop bleeding as soon as her cat whispers "everything is going to be okay my love "

Her eyes aren't red anymore 

She finally smiles at the picture of her and her mom thinking "i was such a happy child"

At the end of the day she sits beside her garden of hopes

To write poems of how her days have been so sore 

Sunday mornings is the time 

Her heartbeat and fears are finally in control

By Tavisha