wind whistles
in the distance
where desert sands
meet the sky
undulating waves of sound
break the silence
of remorse—
self-inflicted wounds
soothed by softly falling night
a balm of star-speckled skies
covers them
as lulling music hums and whooshes
almost like an ocean, rhythmic
cooling blistered souls
who wander lost
in the unknown
© Neetu Malik
last night’s hurricane blew the roof off
pieces of felt lay on the street like bits of rubber tires
She needs to dig deep
to pull the roots
that grow under her feet
to do so requires strength
It must have been
a stormy night
when love flew out the window
of my vacant room
like a feather
from a molting bird.
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