The Book with a rose and a note

So I fell upon 
a rose in a book,
dried and broken.
Oh, and a little note.
In the corner, hidden.
Hidden, as though just
meant for my eyes to lust.
And the rose although
felt familiar,
the words somehow
didn't.
All I knew, it told a story.
Oh hey, but shhh shh.
No, don't read it
out loud.
Even whisper
any word or even
any letter.
I am afraid,
the heart might just hear.
It said something
it could no longer bear.
So hush please,
If you please?
Because it still is hurting.
Alas, you doubt
a tiny part still is missing.
So guess we will leave
the book,
the rose,
the note and now
a tear droplet.
Here heart, let's
just leave it.

 © 2019 _occultatum_ blogunseen.com

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