Was at an exclusive event.
Dressed in midnight blue, a new dress,
lamenting the fact that I hadn’t broken in my new shoes,
in my head. Outwardly smiling, shaking hands,
making small talk, and acquaintances.
Then…. A thought: If a photographer asked for a photo,
would s/he see this phenomenon
called upbringing on my face?
Be modest, kind, intelligent and bountiful.
Like a rose, delicate yet pure, beautiful and lovely.
Don’t speak unless spoken to,
stay hidden under the veil.
Stay hidden. Veiled. Pressed. Dried.
There’s beauty even in a dead rose,
given as a token of love – to and by society.
No. The rose was not sick,
but the invisible worm did find its bed.
At the cost of a dark secret love is
an illusionary experience that
does our lives destroy.