Vishakha

A rose so exposed

Piercing your eyes that deep into the soul

Even the skin starts shedding, making the way on its own

Was willing to grow out some petals but here we go

The raw feeling of getting exposed started to gnaw at me, oppressing me more

The dust on the book cover defining the time that has gone

The pages, still fresh, untouched, carrying the weight of the words unspoken, unknown