(From my poetry Collection 'Signatures')
Fear-engine
She is on the other
end
over the phone with
her lover.
With broken up
voice for so long,
there must be many
tears.
The road block
dusts my view
like a sand blasted
purview
Her voice is
muffled;
A bus is stuck in
the ditch of slush
Wheels are spinning
desperately
There must be tears on the other end
calculating them
silently
I know how feeble
she is;
My fear engine
starts up
imagining of what
all
she would decide
and I move towards
the closed doors
with the pound and
thud of
My own heart heard by
me.
Vaiyavan
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