Satish Verma
To Full Moon
Sometimes,
you let it go,
the uneven fall of the tempest.
Which body,
would you turn on,
now; after inhaling―
the jessamines? An
overpowering instinct,
takes hold of you―
to death wish. I want
to make you sit
before me and ask―
why have you fallen
in love with a
fireball. A hidden mystery―
unflolds now. We knew
each other’s gift
of summer, hurting without knowing.
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