Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Your Lips Tremble

You step out of the words.
Absence can not be replaced.

The hunger game begins,
I will now accept your velocity.

The wholeness may shatter,
when tears become a flame?

In alarm, the bones
knit the feathers. A god wants to fly.

It was your thought and
my pen, I will write with my blood.

A quick start for a suicide.
The futile debate will not end.
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