Green Wounds

Green Wounds

You have your own
words, hired from my
lips. Ad libbed I will
go dumb.

There was instant
empathy with fireflies.
They don't sing while burning.

It was a highlitened
pain, when I moved my
dark fingers on your
white skin to write a poem.

Who was picking
marbles after breaking
the glass windows?

Love was not
a job to be completed.
It makes you immortal
in your grave.

Is this was my
punishment? I will not
see your hands?

Reviews

[Ookpik]

Hi Satish, I made small changes to fix English grammar and pronunciation:

"Is this *what* was *to be* my
punishment? *Will I* not
see your hands?"

Beautiful work, as always - I hope the green wounds yet heal.

Shukriya, thank you for sharing.

-Ook