Myth of Suicide

Be laid:
with your private wounds 
beside me. 
For otherness. 

Can you come out from? 
your flesh, and watch 
the ribs, becoming 
infrasonic ?

The desiccated dreams, 
inhaling the fire, 
drinking pain. You have 
come full circle.

Can you describe the 
journey of dead souls ? 
Without tears ? Are you 
going to reject the end ?

The ruins are always a beauty.


Satish Verma.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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