Sweet Encounters Poem by Satish Verma
Sweet Encounters
The second death
of orange-moon in―
blood, when sun sleeps.
The magic over.
I am tired of mystery to
die in blue light.
Anxiety rises. You
want to become a prophet
after losing esteem.
Friday, September 7, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/7/2024 4:32:43 PM # 1.0.0.1119
