That used to cover me.
My poetics. Now stars drag
the space and time.
This was a poet's dream.
It will wash away the wounds
of my past one day.
Why didn't you give
me a kiss a day, when I had
burned my pale hands?
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: October 17th, 2024 21:44
- Category: Nature
- Views: 7
Offline)
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