withered
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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.
Tired, restless
Heart beats in your chest and
Breathless
You’re smothered by the background and
Bound, restricted and backed into a corner
Hungry and famished, your throat aching to sing a song
