Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Purple Bleeds

Untied I set myself
free. You pass on―
the moon by lips.

If you cheat the
words, they become your
strange, noiseless adversaries.

The prison has
no keys. You can come out
and go back. Night
unmakes the walls.

Perhaps, one day
I will meet my craft of
oriental track of
drowning in your silent eyes.

Pink death of setting
sun takes away all the glory
of seasoned smile.

Slowly Venus will dip in twilight sky!
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