BONES OF WINDS

Inside, the battle wages. 
One step down, 
I drown myself in the frowns 
of a thought. Night sucks at my fear. 

The rhyme of the fading moon 
intends to fix me up. 
I refuse to smell the breath 
of the catch. 

I bloom on the pain, 
sweetened kill of the day. An empty jump 
in void of a portrait; 
shaking wall. 

Watercolors were ruined 
by smudging the reasons. 
Clutching the bones of winds, falling 
from the sky.

Satish Verma