Unspoken

It was not dark
in a killing field.
A primitivism has prevailed
upon an intimate hate crime
for brand mnemonics.

A bronzed moon
will come out tonight.
The glances were missing
and you -
cannot see properly.

The blue bird
was nesting in a pink cloud,
when you were -,
less than half. Killed
but not raped.

Who rattles the montage?
Let the etiolation speak.
Blood was scarped off,
but the ornamental stealing
goes on.

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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