Rolling the years
back to you, when you are
no more my rival.
Of unbecoming―
it was a total disaster.
Over to you, my debt.
I will not claim
my mirrors. You can sleep
on the clouds. I will
collect the rains of dark rubies.
You were the swan
who would not find the lake.
Forlorn, you collect the
hate and become a rose.
The tears make the
pearls. I draw a circle.
You are not in center.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: June 11th, 2020 19:22
- Category: Nature
- Views: 5
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