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Her petals fell.
Wilted hearts.
Broken stems.
Drooping leaves.
and bleeding wrists.
Another one drops dead.
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decided to try out poetry again. let's see how it goes :)
YOU ARE READING
nightingale
Poesíapoetry/ there's something sapphic about the way she says my name there's something tragic in the way he holds out his hand there's something magic in their eyes when for my love they sang there's something nostalgic in the way that I ran (to their a...
