Winter withers away, spring has sprung

Love. The latest love resembles the wilting flowers in the garden. Once blossomed, alive, an. Blissful. Now it's a old stale memory; lost in the backseat of my mind. How lovely at the thought of a rose. A Blood red rose. Not just any rose. A rose filled with unconditional harmony. Punctured by the thought of the thorn, colors collide and fill my heart. 


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