I don't want my writing
to be a rose
you don't want to touch;
I want my words to be
the strange fragrance
lingering
upon your breath,
asking you to pause
and look to the forests,
where a wildflower
was crushed
by the falling log
from a tree
that's learning
how to die.
to be a rose
you don't want to touch;
I want my words to be
the strange fragrance
lingering
upon your breath,
asking you to pause
and look to the forests,
where a wildflower
was crushed
by the falling log
from a tree
that's learning
how to die.
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