Pebbles strewn pavement
Keep drawing me back,
Like the putrid smell of Love and Dead
That has been reeking like a never-ending proletariat loop,
Whistle like a wheeze of rustic chest
Which left back thousand nights of sleepless sighs,
Now mooring a deep-seated ember and lies,
And bellowing those sighs
Around the neck
Before the dawn
At the dusk
And during the long stretching journey
From my door to bed.
Poetry: Sighs, ember and lies.

Safayat Sumon is a security professional guarding his fantasy world made up with poetry, pun, and fiction.