By Shakti Shukla
Women always have some sort of
Depth attached to them,
Even the seemingly superficial ones,
Revealing their flesh
With skin covered in concealer,
Only known to those who
Dare to look in their eyes
In order to catch
A glimpse of their soul.
Those with intentions of
Possessing the surface
Will never care to look beneath.
For the oceans of passion
To shores of grief,
Volcanoes of fury turned into
Sediments of disappointment,
Mysteriously balanced with
Rains of love and springs of hope.
By Shakti Shukla
Comments