Makhmali

I am that, the one who stays fresh and safe and always strives to live after death.

I met you, when I was already plucked and dead, while walking, only with faith, felt as if we could somehow connect.

I tried, I tried to understand each of your pain, with no judgment, even made myself believe, that we are planted the same.

but then day after day, when I saw u bloomed, we did not look the same. then I clicked and came to a relisation that you were just another ordinary flower, that blooms beautifully but has an expiry date.

Knowing all that, I wanted nothing but for you to stay, so I tried my best, with everything that I had so I could keep you with me, so safe.

Watered you, so I could see you bloom at least once a day, with everything I had, I lost myself worth, trying to understand why you could not stay.

I was plucked out of my plant once again, and left to be dead, I had forgotten who I was, what is my name. I am slowly relearning "my name is a makhamali , and I am that who knows how to live after death."