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Author Name: Freesatishverma 0 Comments
Date Added: May 26, 2018 20:05:08 Average Score: (Needs 2)
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Type: Unspecified
Category: Inspirational Add To Favorites | Text Only
When the sun goes down bleeding 
beyond the hills yonder, 
I will meet you under 
the acacias. 

As a souvenir I will keep 
your lips in my books for history. 
As a gift I will give you 
my tears. 

This desert of hate has bleached 
my fingers, bone white. 
I cannot write a monologue 
of death in waning light. 

I wake to sleep in blasts. 
My palms hold out the great silence.
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'Voices' Copyright © Satish Verma
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