The Dirty Beliefs

Folder: 
Satish Verma

More searing― 
in fog of love. 
You prepare the first draft― 
of suicide. 

It was not in your 
handwriting from the left, 
before sending― 
the message. 

The crash of the drone 
before hitting the ground. 
I apologize to sun for― 
the brilliant fault. 

I will never know 
what did I give you. 
My tulips were ravaged 
by the statecraft of the winds.