COMING OUT OF SKIN

Banded I walk 
on the dirt road, 
when discreetly, your shadow falls behind me. 

Melting the distance 
a voice loses the sharp birthmark, 
becomes perfectly an onlooker. 
Where I was going? 

Greed was splitting the fat. 
An owl creaks. 
I pick up some daisies to walk into a crypt. 
New mind was some steps away. 

Coming out of skin 
nakedness, brings out the tears. 
We have stopped speaking. Only whispers 
are parting the blackness.

Satish Verma