Breathing Dust

Do not stoke the desires tonight,
my moon is away on the cusp of doubts.
Count you must the needles in heart, of
ifs and buts? A fragile truce was anathema
to me. The nagging day lies ahead –

of my failing gifts. Living was a whispering
silence, no secrets had a spite for you.
A fine drizzle of thoughts fills the lungs,
mind cries for the space to arrange
the corpses of dreams.

The uncertainties take a heavy toll.
A new voice precedes a wet moon,
the sun was rising late today, living apart.

Submitted by Satish Verma.

Category: Life Poems | No comments | Tags:
DownUp 0

Leave a comment