satishverma
You Had The Answer
Category: /General/
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0
Do I ask a question, 
sometimes red―
sometimes blue?
My pain of centuries
was not interpretive. There
were no tears left
in the eyes.
Something gets in my
poem. I go white, as
the blank page of a book.
Like a big fish
claiming its territory
on small limbless cold animal.
The pure adoration
makes you numb. How can
you handle a falling moon?
The lavender was
melting into effeminacy.
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