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Aug 2020
I was extremely
hurt. Your taped lips won't kiss.
I will die hundred moons.

Can you give me
freedom from the pink rocks
of salt and snow.

I think, I should not
drop your name at the edge
of my trembling poems.

I walk in sleep
to listen to your surrender
before the bald eagle.

You were always in
hurry to shut the book
of life without reading it.
Written by
Satsih Verma
39
 
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