Author Information
Valentine
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Satish Verma Your body in mud pack
in line of fire
suddenly finds a lover.
I was watching with concern.
Cup of soul, lined with abrasive desires
was empty. Do not go raging in the
sea, to collect the salt.
The pink eye tells the boom.
We may meet again, may not.
I was leaving behind
a trail of exiled skulls on sand.
The ghosts had left the home waking up
On periphery of trembling moon.
The door did not open for apocalypse.
I fell over long stemmed roses
since life was very desperate!
