Unwritten Grief

satishverma

Standing in dark storm,
not to turn back.

An imperial oath
breaks, I don't want to
take any foreward for
my departure.

Small feet in
tattered shoes will not
leave any footmarks, and
climb the sharp edge.

Any friend becomes
A bleeding wound. It was
better to seek an asylum
in smile of black moon..

The knitting must
start. There was a pause
in pain of giving away
my muse.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: July 20th, 2023 21:34
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 2
  • Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
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