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When the petals still pulsed,
the last moment the dew didn't drown,
I plucked myself from the soil,
and into your vase plopped my stem.
its pond hugged my crisp curves,
only for the glass to shatter,
leaving pieces I must pick up.
So now,
I wonder,
the shards,
will they stop stabbing,
blood pooling,
blank eyes peering?
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