like the roots of the maple,
grounding. the
limbs of the laborer never quit.
they're far stronger than I
to not need you
would be easier, I think, now.
"give me more" sounds selfish,
how do I find another way to say it?
I'm picturing the roundish petals
of the flushed pink roses you gave me this winter past,
and I'm wondering why not now?
Really well written, made me feel really sad at the end. It's really upsetting when time seems to tarnish relationships.
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