satishverma
And Many Eyebaths
Category: /General/
(486 views)
0
I shut myself, 
you becoming a fugitive,
of the neo-genre.
Birthing a truth―
of this world.
No one was a prophet.
In my inconspicuousness,
I touch you with my poems,
to cross the gloomy door.
And the cup remains
half. You kneel in a prayer
to seek what was not possible.
Who would become blameless
if there was no crime?
The gifts of love―
lie scattered. I cannot
solve the jigsaw puzzle.
A heart bleeds without crying.
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.