User Review( votes)
written by: Aswin
My fingers play a tasteless rhapsody
as I slowly rise to my doorstep;
watching my fingers dance in the mirror
the girl in the elevator
has lost her voice.
Mind you, it is the season of sickness
and longing wraps its long fingers around my heart.
I disappear into darkness
like a soap lather feather
dissolving in the shower.
His poems have been published in Deccan Chronicle and The Unprecedented Review.