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Feb 2017
Lost pieces from my heart,
and the green dry veins,
quelled  under painkillers,
yet sedated with pain itself,
by the golden blood of liquor
and the ash smokes with
the shattered whisky glass
on the marble floor, waiting
for her to wash the blood
off my feet, but to gift some,
on my pale and dry lips...
Budhaditya Bose
Written by
Budhaditya Bose  India
(India)   
297
 
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