I’m coming
home
to a pile of love
an empty bed
on
a full page,
crisp sheets,
a tattered
envelope,
a weary
traveler,
a bit wet too,
the rain survives
the call
of my heart
as paper
suffices
to let
me think
of you.
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Published by Neha Bhat
Sex & Trauma Psychotherapist, Artist and Writer who creates innovative psychotherapy and inner work healing content on somatics, trauma recovery, abuse and mental health from a creative, spiritual, depth-focused, decolonial lens. Also known as @indiansextherapist. Started one of the first Indian therapy groups for people who have perpetrated and survived sexual abuse.
View all posts by Neha Bhat
great poem – utter desolation within.