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Pricked

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The roses , that I keep beside your pillow

are red  with the blood of my dreams .

Their petals ,  softer than your lips

their touch  , warmer than your breath

and their scent ,  fiercer than your embrace

which lingers on  to stay with me , in me

as I silently , watch you sleep .

But you , you my love

either keep the roses close to your bosom

or toss them away from the window ,

down to the world ,  from which they  came  .

Because the doorstep where you put them

is not where they should be .

Set them  free my love

and let me be .

But do remember , dear heart

that all roses do dry up

but no time can dry

the rose  ,  which is kissed by you .

Set me free my love

and let them be .

Pluck this thorn that poisons my heart

let me live , to find you in all the  stars.

Arijit Roy (Poem)

Shashwat Tyagi (Photograph)

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Author:

learning to fly like those angels did a long time ago ...

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