What a folly. You want
to live in the womb again. There was
one soul and two bodies.
Words tend to die in the large
grind. Only dried tears were left on the
rocks. A name was erased slowly.
O god out of the ash comes
out the sacred necklace. All night
I was remembering a name of fabric.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: June 15th, 2021 23:24
- Category: Nature
- Views: 21
- User favorite of this poem: Blue Poet.
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Comments1
"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream" - E. A. Poe
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