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) - Published: August 26th, 2015 22:58
- Category: Nature
- Views: 12
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.