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Aug 2021
Tender thorns, but
turbulent sea inside. Why are you
holding the ancient water in your eyes?

You are trapped below
my beats but I am escaping into space.
Yet you dare to kiss me on rock.

This was divine. You
always lived in my breast. The ripped silence
becomes vocal. Where does this road go?
Written by
Satsih Verma
69
 
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