Scratched

Scratched

A nothingness sticks on mirror
When only the virtue echoes
The silent invisibility buoys
Atop the unbridled depths
Then I feel like an ocean
Scratched by bubbles of mine.
My nails often burst them
When you remove the curtains
And peep from behind clouds
On smouldering debris of night
Then we sink into the residue
While the clouds that garb
The glitter of your flowing eyes
Continue to flicker in the skies.
When the unsure morning fell
My beach was full of treasures
Deserted by the scratching waves.

Delhi
1722
19.58 hrs
11.2.18