Coming And Going Poem by Satish Verma
Coming And Going
In last breath,
when the door remained
open, you walked out.
Accepting the truth
was my fault.
Everything was not true.
After a death
there was no other dying.
Thoughts were deathless.
A self-portrait
would be not simple,
you were watching.
Thursday, December 29, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/4/2024 9:20:21 PM # 1.0.0.1119
