Sunday Laundry

I'm Zia, a pseudonym borrowed for these pages, and I have an incurable habit of collecting things that don't belong in pockets: odd conversations, sunlit afternoons, half-finished thoughts, and the sort of metaphors that probably need professional supervision. They usually find their way into poems before I know what to do with them. When I'm not writing, you'll probably find me buried in a book, wandering somewhere between Shakespeare and Plath, or being delightfully overdramatic on and off the stage. I read too much, think too much, love a little too fiercely, and have a tendency to romanticize ordinary things until they become poems. I'm endlessly fascinated by people. By the ways we carry one another, by the stories we never quite tell, and by the quiet magic tucked into everyday moments. I'm still learning, still growing, and still convinced there's no such thing as too many beautiful words. Thankfully, poetry has never asked me to prove otherwise.