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The Scribbling Girl

January 14, 2017. The last time I stood in the sun, the memories, damp from Friday nights seemed to dry, I could feel the cold fading away the warmth of belonging to myself setting in. I feel it almost every month. So on some Sunday mornings they tasted like warm coffee while they became a bitter nostalgia by Monday afternoons. And… Continue reading Lapse of Memory. December 27, 2016. A Letter to My Father. November 18, 2016. November 18, 2016. Poem of an Insomniac. November 10, 2016. November 10, 2016.

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January 14, 2017. The last time I stood in the sun, the memories, damp from Friday nights seemed to dry, I could feel the cold fading away the warmth of belonging to myself setting in. I feel it almost every month. So on some Sunday mornings they tasted like warm coffee while they became a bitter nostalgia by Monday afternoons. And… Continue reading Lapse of Memory. December 27, 2016. A Letter to My Father. November 18, 2016. November 18, 2016. Poem of an Insomniac. November 10, 2016. November 10, 2016.
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The Scribbling Girl | thescribblinggirl.wordpress.com Reviews

https://thescribblinggirl.wordpress.com

January 14, 2017. The last time I stood in the sun, the memories, damp from Friday nights seemed to dry, I could feel the cold fading away the warmth of belonging to myself setting in. I feel it almost every month. So on some Sunday mornings they tasted like warm coffee while they became a bitter nostalgia by Monday afternoons. And… Continue reading Lapse of Memory. December 27, 2016. A Letter to My Father. November 18, 2016. November 18, 2016. Poem of an Insomniac. November 10, 2016. November 10, 2016.

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thescribblinggirl.wordpress.com thescribblinggirl.wordpress.com
1

On Letting Go – The Scribbling Girl

https://thescribblinggirl.wordpress.com/2016/12/27/on-letting-go

December 27, 2016. 8216;Save yourself the fall,’ I said the last time you noticed me standing in the corner of an empty hallway. 8216;Save yourself the misery,’ I told you the last time you saw me on the bus riding alone with Orlando tucked in between my hands. 8216;Save yourself and me,’ I asked you the last time you stumbled upon me during my solo trail. Save us both because seven nights and eight days later, none of us will be saved. You ask me ‘why.’. And like all the cliched lover, I will leave you,.

2

About – The Scribbling Girl

https://thescribblinggirl.wordpress.com/about

A selenophile who writes or maybe scribbles. 8220;…catharsis, would enable me to better meet the new day”. One thought on “ About. April 27, 2016 at 8:40 AM. Hey i nominated you for the liebster award, you can check it out here – http:/ scribledreams.com/? Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Address never made public). You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out. Notify me of new comments via email.

3

Silent Thunder – The Scribbling Girl

https://thescribblinggirl.wordpress.com/2016/08/08/silent-thunder

August 8, 2016. Sometimes when I come back home. You ask me about my day. If it was all fine. If I made new friends. If this new course thrills me. If having my dream come true feels good. 8216;you wanted to do it from DU, didn’t you? 8217; You would say). I am not fine. I don’t feel good. The idea of being where I wanted to be is thrilling. But I am scared of messing things up. Maa, I don’t belong to that place. I feel alone. I feel sad. I am on my lowest. I am unable to gel up with people there. How Gr...

4

Homely Void – The Scribbling Girl

https://thescribblinggirl.wordpress.com/2016/10/07/homely-void

October 7, 2016. Before feeling me you need to see how I look. I am the yellow of a sunflower, orange of the sky with a setting sun, red of a burning flame, blue of still waters and black of a cold coal. Home, which never satisfied you. Home, which couldn’t make you feel your own. Which couldn’t make you feel my colors. Before you reside in me, you need to live in me. Did you ever think of the last time a home felt home? The last time I felt happy with my residents? You wanted me to stay homely even when...

5

Poem of an Insomniac – The Scribbling Girl

https://thescribblinggirl.wordpress.com/2016/11/10/poem-of-an-insomniac

Poem of an Insomniac. November 10, 2016. November 10, 2016. On 15th of every month,. Hot coffees shared at 12 in the midnight with peaceful silences made more sense than the hustle caused by the 1st of every month. So on every 15th of every month, I loved you a little more,. Hoping for another coffee,. The next one in the balcony instead of the kitchen counter. Your sneaking into the house instead of using the front door,. Would often scare me,. Because I knew,. You will sneak out. Out of my life. Kickin...

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January 14, 2017. The last time I stood in the sun, the memories, damp from Friday nights seemed to dry, I could feel the cold fading away the warmth of belonging to myself setting in. I feel it almost every month. So on some Sunday mornings they tasted like warm coffee while they became a bitter nostalgia by Monday afternoons. And… Continue reading Lapse of Memory. December 27, 2016. A Letter to My Father. November 18, 2016. November 18, 2016. Poem of an Insomniac. November 10, 2016. November 10, 2016.

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