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Still listening from lips, 
a mute hearing with hands, 
an improper metaphor. 

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In the frozen lake of eyes 
a fish dies 
in unread tears. 

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An upended 
home of laments 
in moon. 

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Imperfect proximity 
of pillows. 
sleep was distance apart. 

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Like poison ivy 
a gnawing to itch 
and an itch to gnaw.

Satish Verma