Everything Withers Away.

The vines you used to draw along
the edges of your notebook
how delicately you entwined them
just like you did your hair
they fade away
you hold on to the notebook for years
to run your fingers across them someday
only to find that the ink has faded
and there remains only
loss.

The flowers wither away in a valley
and no one sees.
The tulips are rotting
by the bedside.

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