Cutting Ties
I envy you the quick, clean cut,
The cleansing, crimson tide,
And the short-lived burn of hope dashed quickly to the ground.
No sticky sad goodbyes,
Glancing backwards to and fro,
And heartstrings stretching endlessly with eyes refusing rest.
So pick the flowers fast,
Press them perfect between paper,
And leave love’s sweet aroma to scent the longings of your dreams.
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