wound

rubescent nostalgia

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which dark waters am I treading,
with this hallowed crimson heart?
following the whispers in the scattered wind,
uttering prayer from my quivering lips

how will I speak of this enchanting tale,
whose splendour lies hidden in its roots?
of love unspoken, songs unheard and melody untouched

planting these silent kisses,
you play with my mind;
with your endearing invisible touch,
you comfort my most aching parts

your burning memory ignites a flame within,
and flowers begin to grow
from this forever bleeding wound

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