deepundergroundpoetry.com

Crossed.

Never could she cement her grief � � � � � � � � � � � �
like funeral in noon,dries up in sun but fluid in real drama. �
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�� rumoured crowd � � � � � � � � � � � � �
�� is shifting dusty � �
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in roads narrow � � � � � � � � � � � �
she sides road's parallels like a song long ago,
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� � �smoking in trance � � � � � � � � � � � � �
�� vapors across her breast � �
� � � � � � � � � �
oh the scene! � � � � � � � � � �
something swells like it shouldn't � �
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�� she can't stop,not anymore � � � � � � � � � � � � �
�� and poetry flows like tale � � �
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thru needle blunt into veins � � � � � �
invisible own scar, � �
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�� it soothes just as moon � � � � � � � � � � � �
�� thick,raising her in its cry � � �
��
drop by drop � � � � � � � � � � � �
till no more she � � � � � � � �
� � � � � � �
�� feels time. � � � � � � � � � � � �
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