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Photo by Justin Schüler on Unsplash

“It ought to make us feel ashamed when we talk like we know what we’re talking about when we talk about love.”
― Raymond Carver

crimson skies evolve into

colors of a dark sea. birds

from far off lands appear

in my stagnant winds. I

drink from the glass of

an unsung hero. I listen

to a foreign language

that seems to be my

tongue of origin, that

seems like the only last

earth I stepped on —

my key

the secret to my nonexistence

my abandoned land,

and I remember my only love.


Vaishali Paliwal

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