last night, as i thought of a woman in a crisis, the poet in me came alive. i wrote a poem dedicated to her and quickly jotted the gist in this blog so that i wouldn't lose the trail of words. this afternoon, i refined it and submitted to poetry.com for publishing.
http://www.poetry.com/poems/withering-rose/14642629/
the beauty of it all is that words flowed word by word which made it special to me.
withering rose by basaria ahayanutheen
i closed my eyes
staring into the darkness
I saw myself
smiling and laughing
enjoying the silky touch of free air
the image snapped away
i saw my wrinkled self
imprisoned in a dark cell of divine unity
what is left of oneself
when all is ripped off
nothing but nakedness
every juice and blood were sucked out
leaving nothing
but a whimpering self
smothering the pain
like a withering rose
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