Inside this dermis ( following The Lashes)

I haven’t yet learnt to bleed    
But the wetness that soaks    
My mind, after    
the    
Tempest lost its trails    
Reminds me of something    
Sour and fluid    
Leaking inside this dermis..    
I plead guilty,    
Couldn’t ever guess    
The accent grazing in your eyes..    
Hence this attempt    
To read over    
the    
Lines of my life once again..    
And seek for  
Faint sonorous impressions    
Of shadows that passed by    
To fill the space in these pages    
With thoughts from    
 
The inkpot of your memories.