- Abhishek Bhattacharyya
Grape juices turned sour turned purple
Are coursing through my veins now.
But then they don’t want to pour out.
They want to burst free.
And the book I was reading-
got smeared with dark juice.
But it wasn’t satisfying.
I wish there were glass vials or wine glasses
before my eyes
I would love to hear them shatter.
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