Rijan Britanicus Acharya


The Curtains

My fair giant has eclipsed my eyes
though the tints reflects too low
and I pass my youth curved like
the petals of roses and still seasoned
between the lost age (that mocks)
and oozing mirage
that drags my silence to its hide.
There I met in my luminous boon
a flowery balm....but still when I find

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