Written by Jacob Ibrag
Light flickers. The last petal of a rose
breaks off and paints the counter top red. She grabs
the vase and cleans out its contents. Fade to dark, the light
drowns as she embraces a new flower. ‘You’ll rip apart.
Naive little thing, there’ll always be another.’
Your words were so well and delicately put. I enjoyed this.
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Thank you π
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Reblogged this on crjen1958.
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Nicely written… Very, mediphorically poetic..
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Thank you Chris π
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i love your imagery
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Thanks π
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There is depth in this poem about the rhythms of life and death.
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π
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π
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π
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It’s awesome!
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Thanks Eriick π
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Amazing!
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Thank you π
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ππππ
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π
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Really enjoy the structure of this poem!
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Thank you π
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Very well written
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Thank you π
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But Is there? Is there another?
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