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Light Luggage
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Satish Verma It was not a random
scent, when honeysuckle
entwines the moon
in evening.
The bewitching smell under your
eyes lingers, till I kiss
it away.
It tumbles out
when the speech fails.
Still I would wake in dark.
Ah, the terror
to remain alive, under
the water of mercy.
Write me off from
the hounded list. I was
walking on the crumbling
leaves of autumn.
Emotions float on
the flames, like the syntax.
