Oubliet of flowers
“ My wars are laid away in books. “ - Emily Dickinson
Thursday, December 27, 2018
My head is hung like
Hyacinthoides non-scripta in morning and I am not ashamed. I am afraid of the world around me and I am withered from the pain.
The thought of you feels like a rebirth and photosynthesis.
Thank you for giving me the feeling of hope and happiness for the first time in a long time.
You are paradise.
And your sound is a beautiful fantasy.
💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙
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