• Hannah Flowers

hold a candle at my own vigil the death of an ego once the old persona has lifted, where does it go? i’ve bought flowers i’ve held roses i’ve had mountains made of gold nothing ever longed for sweetly as the smell of your cologne for i have been known and i have seen the backroads and so it goes, on it goes universe quid pro quo i would rather never take hold of this feeling centuries old but it has touched me, infinitely affecting my own prose

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