Satish Verma

Your frozen words float 
like flakes 
falling from invisible lips. 

Aimlessly I would 
pick up the yearnings 
trying to caress me. 

Talking to me in 
hushed tones, to give a 
tang of silence and release. 

The otherness, like a 
silvery spider's web invites. 
You wait at the edge, pondering― 

To walk in or not. You 
bite your tongue, cannot move. 
There were suicides. 

The cadavers talk.