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Showing posts from August, 2019


Red-green-yellow. Lights. Lights off.
Silence. The night and owl stories. Lust. Loneliness. He called up. Late in the night and remained silent until he could sleep. She listened to his silence and the monster who wanted to drink blood, not rain. He was not in love. He was honest enough to tell her. She was happy to read him, blindly. The script was being written. She read many... many more.... At times, she prayed to be saved. At times, she got tangled. Then he held her hand, showed her love... She searched for keys. Hastily. Gasping. Pressing. Backspace. DEL. Esc.

August poem

August is sinister
I would not call it a month
of green love and blessings
it brings night to a sunny day
and who cares for those
houses that swim away
it was only yesterday
August had not come,
I would feel joy under their cheeks
swelled up cautiously and sleep on eye brow
for peaceful days and dreams of green green meadow
where are they? where are the happy days?
this havoc, the flood of pain, is the same water, you rejoiced in and prayed for days after daysSummer was better
they all said, sighed and hoped for another season to dawn.
hope, once and ever, we only have to have.