Smoked Dreams Poem by Satish Verma
Smoked Dreams
Sending a message to you
entering your flesh, I become a visionary.
Can you tell me where the tears live?
The wheels move to pull
up the clotted blood of your chest.
Were you crying secretly?
Believing in truth you
burn your hands. I want to smell
your scented breath. Don't go in fog.
Friday, September 30, 2022
Topic(s) of this poem: fog
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8/5/2026 2:16:31 AM # rel_20260803T153344Z_4267e77
