Skin Poem by Melwin Mathew
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Skin
Well, I look up very often
The truth burns my skin off.
I offered my taste to the thirsty travellers,
The pretentious lobster fry
Read out my own verses.
The bouts of inspiration
Ends up in perpetual perturbation
Dull dreams and dirty hair.
The river is everywhere.
She smells sleep and silence
She waits, waits and waits some more.
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: existence
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5/6/2024 4:06:32 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A well penned piece, Melwin. Thanks for sharing