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

In a sneaky way I liked to distrust him.

Was trying to― make eye contact with

We were not in the same book. Gods different,

Milk thistle cheated me. There was no incarnation.

In cascading tresses, when moon

The night had dumped the moon on the hill.

The godman also had an underbelly.

The giant pain was nameless. Held captive in

Come and sleep with me, I said to moon. We have to

There was no ending of questions.