Open Me Up

Open me up on June,
Summer is a surgeon.
The roots of my herb are
Inside the body then.
My secret is safe so,
As my feet and mouth rise
Into heavenly grace
Or should I be enough?
June was electrical,
Lively, ordinary,
Bones and body parts shown.
I love being missed all.
I just hate being it.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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