No more love / Only the harvest of /golden-yellow sunflowers/ Another summer on hold
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kneel before her feet, behold her face/ and confess that it glitters/ tell her the moon steals from her brightness.
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Poetry | Podcast | Praise Osawaru | Nigeria
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There was no guilt, no remorse, even more curiously, no sense of loss.
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Short story on love, freedom, family, and marriage.
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You bring me flowersWild with thorns like your love
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