Be laid:
with your private wounds
beside me.
For otherness.
Can you come out from―
your flesh, and watch
the ribs, becoming
infrasonic?
The desiccated dreams,
inhaling the fire,
drinking pain. You have
come full circle.
Can you describe the
journey of dead souls?
Without tears? Are you
going to reject the end?
The ruins are always a beauty.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: December 21st, 2017 20:16
- Category: Nature
- Views: 11
Comments1
I enjoyed reading it 🙂 thank you for sharing .
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.