satishverma
Under The Neem Tree
Category: /General/
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You will not let go
the proximal scream, from the milky
way lacerated in moonlight.
In dystopia the undying
pain feeds my poems. Aspiration sits
on your lips to be inhaled.
The hands shut my
eyes. Can you remove the boundaries?
Cried you one day, cried me one day.
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