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Diffused Sham

When you came I kissed the thunder under the over-bridge of Tiger passing plaza The tea smoked the pains of mumbling slogans of the passersby On the neck of the naked sky the toxic lips of white clouds dappled the bloodshed napkins No room for memory to reap the chain in the yellow book to recall the stolen verses of trunks By the cadence of borrowed emotion now everything is the bubbles of dew © Mahtab Bangalee/Feb'25

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Date: 2/18/2025 5:55:00 AM
I never use bloodshed napkins. Messy buggers. Bang a gong Bangalee
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