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Nov 2021
I hang the flowers he bought me from the stems when the petals turn brown.

They slowly lose their colour and shrink in size, collapsing onto themselves.

The slightest touch could turn the petals to dust.

Maybe I am a dried flower,
Fragile,
Dull,
An unremarkable memory,
Purely kept for decoration and nothing more.
Laura Coulton
Written by
Laura Coulton  24/F/New Zealand
(24/F/New Zealand)   
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