Filled Dearths Poem by Hanan Muzafar

Fumes of fragrance,
unbearable arrogance;
curved are curves,
and filled are dearths.

Feel through eyes,
say no goodbyes;
somehow turning mad,
it's not so bad.

It's only summer heat,
and we beat;
can't stay,
looking for a bay.

When she's nervous,
her lips quiver;
somewhere pierced us,
makes me shiver.

Twisted thoughts,
and finite heights;
When no one to blame,
never claim.

In that rain,
skin drenched;
sweet pain,
and fragments crushed.