Independent Poem #3 - Prabahan Shakya


Chances are, you're in my habitat
And you're looking for souvenirs.
Some piece of the wall I etched in black.
Something I have, something you've lacked.
 Chancesare, I've never really cared
for the ruins of war and the cities you sacked.
 Yet all the world's chardonnay couldn't stop me
from itching scars and kissing backs.

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