7 april 2012
Disbelievingly
Fraternising
the needles
on abbreviated lips.
Handful of sand
hauling uphill.
Code of particles
feels the entire lie.
You wear mauve
when I cry.
Like diatoms
in eyes.
Erase the sun
from my hairs.
I am turning black.
The brine
had encroached all around.
The brown grass, the soaked laughter,
but I will come again in disbelief.
Satish Verma
19 november 2024
1911wiesiek
19 november 2024
Jeden mostJaga
19 november 2024
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19 november 2024
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19 november 2024
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19 november 2024
Metaphysics Of ShrineSatish Verma
18 november 2024
1811wiesiek
18 november 2024
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18 november 2024
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