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Knowing Myself
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Satish Verma I promise
I will not write your
name, on black wall
of brutal moon.
Your footprints
after walking on―
burning coals
still smell of cologne.
Your presence
sits in my poems. Do
we become human after
separation?
Don't hurl the questions.
There are no burning answers
in my hand. The truth was
dying between the words.
