Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Silent Complaints

To remain normal―
how difficult it was. To undo
what had not been done.

A pinch of salt was
needed to taste your skin.
Belief will come later.

My unearthly lover, the
moon was becoming physical
sending me a lipless song.

Once upon a pain,
I had asked you to be, what
you were― my rival.

The uncanny fear, wins
over the whispers― when it
appears stark naked.
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