I don't recognize
you, after giving
a pause to poem.
It was an eerie
accident. I don't own
my body, and you don't
own your tears.
With solemnity, I
place my book, on the road
going nowhere. To be
read by the sun.
You buy the words
I sell the silence.
The hyphens wail.
Cost rises.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: December 8th, 2023 20:08
- Category: Nature
- Views: 3
Offline)
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