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Jul 2018
I will cut down this tree,
to make the stake where I write your name. 
I shall bury it in earth,
and mark the place your memory will stay.
The flowers may come with time,
but not with me.
Only runoff will unearth you,
as I will run away.
EphemeralLikeGold
Written by
EphemeralLikeGold  23/M
(23/M)   
  1.0k
     Deborah and Pauper of Prose
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