She breathes

Indeed a dangerous game.
Utter lack of shame.
Soul hatred: vengeful beast.
My joy: everyone’s feast.
Barbed fences in vain.
For I am immune to pain.
I write to myself.
And imagine she did.
Amid all that’s make-believe,
what I imagine is true, is true.
And when the wind traverses by,
her hair, dark sky.
I look away like I care less.
Within, a complete mess.
I choke. Everybody chokes.
She breathes.
Or so, she thinks.

Varun Rajagopalan.

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