Satish Verma > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

You said this summer, hold me tight,

Set free the water- do not harm the spring.

Eating a suicide tree's fruit searching for the answers.

To own you, was my fault. I wanted you flawlessly,

The bull's-eye on your chest, the black marker

Listening to the voices of silence― of beautiful triangles,

Hiding behind the faces, you had pushed me to the edge.

Blindfolded you wanted to catch the moon.

Buried in a shiny grave, a redefined religion

In everyday life you pick up a war with a―