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Poetry

And the flowers that he grew in my lungs turned to wilted flowers, making it harder to breathe. And then the rain made them bloom again.

No reason.

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by newromanticcs

by newromanticcs

I was down for everything.

Thought you played me.

You played yourself.

I lost a piece of myself.

When your goodbye came.

I never saw it coming.

You were down the road.

I was still waiting on the corner.

It was easier before.

Now there's no purpose to this.

No reason to complicate ourselves.