Let Go

July 11, 2009
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A deep red rose pushing through The cracks of the,
My love had been,
That out of place,
Chalk rubbed on your fingers,
The scratching of styrofoam,
My love had been that wrong,
Hidden from the world,
The things I felt had seemed right,
But now I must weed the city sidewalk,
And kill the rose myself.

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