satishverma
In This Age
Category: /General/
(527 views)
0
Why do I part with 
my grief, my poems?
All night I was awake
to know what went wrong?
I extend my empty hand―
so that you can draw my fate.
You have the beautiful gazelle
eyes. Why they always look beyond me?
The salt comes again in
my verses. No sweetened lies.
The truth was too hot to be punched
on my hand. It has made a bleeding hole.
Favorite Favorite Comment Comment Share Share
Report an item by sharing it with support.
© individual authors and creators. Create, Share and Profit at etastic.com.