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February 19, 2024


By Gopal Lahiri


Sometimes I hear footsteps, sometimes not
you pull the curtain in a haste
for the chosen few.

When words chase me from
your body, I want to escape,
the swing door returns.

Baritones in blurred conversations
truth is buried,
there are unknown roots within.

Cloudless evening holds promise
persuading our skin,
you end up with a smile.

What about missing the raspberries?
My sugarless mouth
insulates me from your sweet tongue.

Article © Gopal Lahiri. All rights reserved.
Published on 2020-09-07
Image(s) are public domain.
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