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Anil Kumar Panda
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A wafer of my soul
Wails and waits as a waif
In the shade of wide vestibule
Of your capricious and convalescent heart;
It is in to bumps and scrapes
As if belongs to nowhere
In the creel of a morbid life
It believes in the meretricious love
A scatty fledgling it is.
Scalding in the poisoned passion
Hopes the twigs of care won't fail it.
A part is still saved;
To be consigned into the flame
That wells up when I meet you
And you meet me.
Thanks for not loving me.
Bu şiiri puanla
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