The deep pink rose on the grave,
You took.
You made it yours,
when the owner was not in sight.
You took good care of it,
You loved it with your heart.
I was that rose and you were the thief, who took it and made it yours.
I didn't complain because I loved the love that was showered on me.
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b l u e b e r r y ✔
Poetry#poetry_1 The peel of a blueberry is tasteless but what matters is sweetness of the inside.
