tiger lily or a rose, you still have your place in the garden. appreciate the bluer notes. why is the simplest thing the hardest? what a thing it is to grow. flower i tried so hard to open my mind. no, i never meant to color you in, jet black, with a ballpoint pen. the brilliance hurt my eyes. i told you that I’m colorblind. you’re blurry like the feeling in the ending of the summer. I’m living in a memory, imagining another. early in the afternoon, the humblest of pleasures, feeling the inside of you. i know that i’ll forget it. it’s disheartening that after everything evaporates, a lot of pain, and all the words i sing, and the perceptive things that i explain, i haven’t changed.
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