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Jan 2019
Pale eyes flooding the room, wishing they could bloom.
We see ourselves naked under the carpet of flowers.
We burn because of decisions of ours.
Their minds are limpid, their eyes like liquid. Isolating myself from temptation, crawling out faster.
I bite my tongue and they heard me sneaking.
Written by
Leah
  189
       Fawn, Saurabh Trikha and Kalliope
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