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Ripvayne

  1. Poetry: A Rose Between - 8/11/14

    Its rough work finding peace of mind


    For yet a rosestem remains, curled firm betwixt our hands


    And though this unwatered flower can only wither


    These dead thorns remind me of our forgotten plans


    A bitter recall to the gardens we tended those cool spring nights


    Oh how foolishly I would dive into that rosebush again

    Updated 11 August 2014 at 12:51 PM by Ripvayne

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