Like illegitimate sons 
becoming nephews. 
Stay with me I have lost 
my ink. 
An underground knife 
cuts you to wrist, 
you bleed on paper. 
It was a tip of trust failure 
after a wake up call by a loner; 
the molten lava will find another 
sexual pursuit. 
There was nothing left to be 
concealed, after the bonfires of veils. 
The celibate tears come unbidden 
I am going to encounter the pool.
- 
                        Author:    
     
	satishverma ( Offline) Offline)
- Published: August 26th, 2015 22:58
- Category: Nature
- Views: 11

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