I pulled out two strings, from a corner of my green shirt of silk, that still smells like you, more of sweet-tart and rose-dip milk, Rumpled from corner to corner, depicting everything that we have between us, With a spurt of time but slowly, managed through my fingers & didn’t make a fuss, Painted it…
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I don’t want to be Sad
I don’t want to be sad, but it always finds the edge of my cover and pull it off, making me vulnerable. I hide every inch of my feelings from it, buried in secret, neither to be found nor to be discovered. Am I too rude to accept it or too weak to deny it?…
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