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. 

Melancholic. Dead.

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.

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