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Only To Live
Folder:
Satish Verma The savage moon
will not stop at passionate
kiss and embrace.
The pansies were ready
to burn.
Every word becomes
a shrine. You adore the
dark shades of
sparkling eyes. There
was no epitaph.
The knobs won't
move. Granite
melts in granite. Fireflies
take revenge and
stop flying.
Struggling for voice
the tongue slips at full
stops. Small commas now
dither to find the space
between the meanings.
