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ryn Sep 2023
What’s this glaze
over my eyes…

A heavy mist
with fingers…
that lingers.
A cataract that
dives and claws
into the black
of irises.

A film,
a veil,
a canvas botched
and vandalised
with arguing paints.
And indelible black
that sings of sadness,
highlights the aches
of dejection
and screams
betrayal.
Àŧùl Jan 2017
If you happen to have it in youth,
You will lose true lovers forever.
If you happen to be so uncouth,
You lose more than just a lover.
If you happen to fail catching the sleuth,
You should look inside yourself rather.
If you often forget lovers like a cloth,
You would rather start a museum.
My HP Poem #1395
©Atul Kaushal

— The End —