Satish Verma > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

The time will not heal. The aging looks. Erotica. Each

Who was the dancer of death? You went for the kill,

A machine pain, scripts the name secretly,

Put me through the french knots. I am

Between the soft glow of twilight and moon, it was

Do you think milk? The medicine,

The basics to live was with the peeling off,

Standing on deathway, choking back tears,

Suddenly, the full moon pops up soundlessly. I was stunned

A dirty word waits for the chilling moon.