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by Satish Verma Feb 16, 2023 category : Nature, environment / nature
Adoration short of consonants, was a sin of little gods. My silent prayers beseeched you again, like humming raindrops. Kiss my bodiless sleep in sad poems, when the scars of words start moaning. Not to wake pain, I held your hand for eternity to write my epic. I fumble, I forget. The days I don't fall in love with thorns.