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Rina Jan 2019
My soul turned a desert.
I can't grow a rose anymore.
I can't seek the red petals.
For, they have fallen for you
mourning for all the hope
that turned into nothing
but love deprived thorns.
Rina Jan 2019
I want to fold the sky
and throw it inside my
closet of unworn clothes.
Blow bubbles among the clouds
and swing my legs in the sky.
Maybe then, I wont complain
about my feet getting cold
and I'll have memories prettier
than the skin I want to be covered in.
Rina Nov 2019
oh! how beautiful is her soul,
where the fireflies of hope swim.

under the ugly sky,
where nothing but piercing winter
meets the eyes,
she walks to the
deserted,
snowy crossroads,
beating through the snowflakes,
to sell red warm roses.

but, how cruel is fate,
her shy bouquets
always ending
on his doorstep.

— The End —