Editor's Choice
Theme: Life


A pink rose was set to strip 
letting the leaves fall. 

The roots were jealous of a thorn 
for stealing the blood from heart. 

It was the last page of a book, 
no more commas, no full stop. 

The dead tongue now seeks syntax 
of the lips that smell like enemies. 

Two hard little breasts start a dance 
like geraniums on bush. 

Between the shadows of thighs 
slept the pride.


More By  :  Satish Verma

Views: 1384     Comments: 0

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