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Dec 2019
darling, don’t bother buying roses
uprooted, torn from the fertile, nourishing earth
they only wither away, glazed with the mourning dew
another bus-ride write. again, not my best... i’ll prolly post again in a couple of weeks, midterms are coming up. it always made me sad when my dad bought my mom flowers. once, they were alight with life, the truest beauty. now confined to a clear water-filled vase, on display for the world, only to die days later. ty for reading. im going to try and stay away from  angsty love poems for my next couple of poems, maybe something happier ;)

^^quick note: mourning refers to tears and is a play on the word morning~
Written by
Wren  14/Gender Fluid/♫ in our idle town ♫
(14/Gender Fluid/♫ in our idle town ♫)   
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