KarmaTonight I hear the wind
That is your voice.
In the Valley of Gods
The gods themselves are nervous.
They fear the red glass of wine.
The night is paused on
The television screens.
The silence of you eating alone
In an old photograph is deafening.
A panic attack of harmonics.
Is it your own heartbeat?
There is pain—in you—that seeks its way out
Through the crevice of your heart.
You know this is going to be over.
But it takes time.
The overhead yellow light is on.
You are by yourself at the dinner table.
Pick up the pen.
Poetry by Bibek
Read 258 times
Written on 2017-07-23 at 15:39
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