18 july 2023

poetry

Satish Verma
Satish Verma

Pale Red Dots

After watching an honour
killing, moon slept
on the dirtroad.

Thinking about god
and blood game, I was
upset. I don't find any
difference.

The stings. Always
bleed my hands, when
I collect the honey
from your lips.

No memes. It
was factual. The darkness
feeds the mouth of sun.

It was an absolute bliss!

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