In August when it pours in Mulund,
a lush green moss covers the walls
on the way to the station.
I had walked that road with you.
An hour of synthetically sweetened iced tea later,
you grew like moss around my heart-
a soft,gentle velvet embrace.
Your words danced like raindrops,
But I still remained confined,
in the plastic glass
of my synthetically sweetened mind
I dont know if these recent short poems that come to me are good or trash. But I know in order to get original work I must allow the writing to develop and not control it. Hence I beg any uinfortunate reader going through this to bear with me.
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