Wilting Life
To think of wilting flowers,
They say is a crime,
Though I cannot help but,
Dream of wilting all the time.
Grey and pink foliage,
State of half dead, half not.
Dance and writhe to let go,
A companion it sought.
My once tinted cheeks stretch,
To feel such a thing as love,
As I alike the wilting flowers,
Have the whole world to let go of.
Copyright © Meghana Shakthi Ashwin Kumar Iyer | Year Posted 2022
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