arqios

when roses were too much

 

There you are,

trading small graces;

cups & saucers

like treaties of peace.

 

I sit back,

half‑skeptic, half‑believer,

watching this fragile pact

hold for a moment—

 

an apparition

of simple bliss.

 

Strange, how it failed

when roses bloomed

too brightly in the garden.

 
 
 
 
 
 
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