When people listen to what I have to say,
I feel:
Bliss, in the knowledge that someone hears my voice –
Without me calling.
I feel like:
A tomato in a pressure cooker,
Whose whistles have long gone,
Whose steam has run dry –
going soft.
With passing days of conversation,
I am an onion,
Peeling away layer,
After layer,
Showing true colours that have
been shoved inside to
prevent tears.
Listen:
For,
You will see that even a coconut,
Once peeled,
Offers the sweetest milk,
And that,
Iceberg lettuce can
sometimes go stale.
Listen:
For,
It is only once you pull layers,
Far away from the skin –
You can truly gauge what
lies within.
