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Jul 2016
A Direct line to the eye’s sight, first time,
Under a morning seeming streetlight, was a blow
to the upper bounds of my notions of the eye color
I longed to deep dive in. An absolute nothingness, when it came to the words outspoken
to a body and a mind, sitting next to me, so it came down to
not all the things and happenings having reasons and
not consoling a needy in fear of an upside down doing failure, and like between life and death are only breaths,
the silence between the sentences was filled with ours’
and deaths by chocolate, and thoughts of silences
of the other’s mind, unheard of, aware only of
unbeknownst wind of familiarity of an unknown kind.
Arihant Verma
Written by
Arihant Verma  23/M/Present
(23/M/Present)   
992
     Ovi-Odiete
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