Rehearsal of a Call

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Why lightning strikes
your pink lips. It was a unique hit
to challenge the brown eyes.

Under blue moon, the sex cult
was incomparable. I was to unfollow me.
Leaving the pain was a miracle.

When you shut your eyes,
the sky falls and the mountain melts.
The bridge automatically builds.

Satish Verma PoemsWhere stories live. Discover now