Satish Verma
No Hatred
Step aside.
Tension of mining gold
barrels through
mating preference.
The shadows under the
eyes were lengthening.
A childhood alley had―
the cul-de-sac.
A face trembles in your
hands when you kiss
the tears of a melting peak.
The body collects the honey.
A sleeping moon drifts
like a fallen virgin,
covering the face in the headscarf
of brazen clouds.
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