Intensity Of A Flame

satishverma

Without audible conflict 
I invoke your face 
from withered names. 

It was always a big NO, 
when I would seek comfort 
in high sounding verdicts. 

An unspoken, painful, 
agony to script for an 
unwritten foe. 

The muscle will twitch 
involuntarily, to taste 
one’s own ink. 

In the waning moon 
I will come at your door 
to ask for a poem.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: June 21st, 2018 19:40
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 38
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Comments +

Comments1

  • SLR

    I love the third stanza. Powerful all on it's own. I do tend to interpret things I read, I do know that I tend to read it as to how it relates to my life and what I've gone through. Great post.



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