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| Death of a Rose |
for comfort in the brokenhearted, for the solace found in a black room, for the stream to freeze, for contact between two snakes. cursing each cut to your face, curse the picking of a different flower, curse the clocks ticking, cursing with whispers under the window sill. push my brevity over the edge, pushing against imaginary walls, pushing against your skills, push each one you meet. |
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