Poetry

To get a feel of
love for the jinx, unwrapping
the gift of dying.

I will not touch you, but
will catch your voice
and stop aging.

Come anonymously at
dusk and light the moon.
I will wait for you in dark.

Who was the criminal
in giving away the skin
of black moments?

One day behind the moon,
I will meet you
somewhere in storm.

At the centre
of gravity lies the ignominy
of black hole. Come and
let's make new stars.