Satish Verma Writing

Doing nothing, for no obvious reason, engaging

Talking of obscenity you were undressing

From window to window― a search begins,

Coming over here to find me, in abstract meaning?

He was not ready for a stash of negligees

Come to me like never ending pain.

I was not afraid of legacy seeking out a collateral

I will color the sky, grieving for the

Moon rose from obscurity, once I released

Nothing-ness fills me again. Once visiting a funeral

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Compartment 114
Compartment 114

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