Amaranthine Lover : Writing

ruins

ruins

A Poem by Amaranthine Lover


here is what I hold in my hand.tales to be told. written unknown, how thereis no origin. there is nothing. to be madeof these old bones, creaking. jus..
moments went

moments went

A Poem by Amaranthine Lover


sun sauntering, sun filteringstreaming through most moist silver branchesand I hear in the distance calling,a tune most sad, to be rememberedmost assu..


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