segunda-feira, 7 de novembro de 2016

Tears a part

I took my favorite flower.
I smashed and clashed it.
1 tiny pile of scent:

While trying to breathe
I play the haze game.
Love me... not, Love not, Love me... not

1 beautiful watery mosaic lies bare eyes
I swipe and sweep forwards and towards.
There is no longer such thing as a favorite flower.

Jone -;-...s

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