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Loves
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my first haiku
blissful barren bark
blushing poppies springing out
beloved is she -
A year (if personified)
I. January - i would be bitter too, if i was always forgotten. i would be closed off and cold, fix my icy gaze upon anyone who dared to spite me. i wouldn't like myself. wouldn’t like always being forgotten. always being upstaged. -
A grey symphony in a minor
The Piper cleans spittle from her pipe. Saliva, it seems, should have been grey all along, akin to dishwater and drain water and whatever the chimney heaves out. -
A Liar's Love Story
A Liar’s Love Story
By Daniel Viorica