Poetry

Nothing to look forward 
I return my gifts today. 
Completely denuded I will spread out in emptiness. 
 
I was nowhere in the circle of untruths, 
the pain was slipping inside 
and self-denial took its toll. 
 
Nomad in exile 
for the kiss of unknown 
wandering in whispering streets. 
 
There was no more remorse. 
Saffron was the choice of pathos. 
A collective suicide of pledges in the sun! 
 
Parallel grief of desert and wind 
offers the plundered toast 
I drink to my parched lips.