I am your pretty flower.
I bloomed for you.
Where did you go?
You left me in the hot sun,
to dry and wither away.
So I will wilt for you,
I'll shrink and dry,
and you'll never know.
You'll miss my scent.
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"The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say." --Anaïs Nin
beautiful. i think i;ve expressed enough how in love i am with your writing. hurry up and write a bok so it can inspire me to do something amazing with my life
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