sticks and stones
may break my bones,
but nothing hurts like
thee sound of her name
on your lips.
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deadroses || poetry
Poesi"we had a vision though, now we dead roses" now, why did she send them? these broken down, wilted, beat up, rotten-looking flowers.
ae.
sticks and stones
may break my bones,
but nothing hurts like
thee sound of her name
on your lips.
