These roses are so perfect. Red as blood, sharp as memories. I can’t help but wonder what is worth the adornment of these lush flowers?
Tell me now, if you could, would you peek inside? Would you like to discover that which they hide? Its like the roses are stuck here forever, bewitched by love and bound by mortality. They have owned the window, claimed it as one of their own. All for that which resides inside.
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