Where the wild roses grew

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


Where the wild roses grew in the realm of dreams, forgotten epics with the sharpness of severe thorns, with a beauty that turned to blood. Where the red roses bloomed reflecting off the crystals of the earth, absorbing the fiery dawn over the yearning of the endless swamps. They fell asleep under the whisper of the nights, revealing more strongly in the petals the windiness of the days, tired of passionate speeches. Their savagery was manifested many times in the void as an elixir for the eyes, their aroma was magical. Why, heart, have you shrunk, are you silent and don’t sing? There, in the grass, above the steep cliffs, an ardent color penetrated your flesh, circled you mercilessly over the abyss, conjured you, leaving exhausted. There, in the last of the sweet ballads, you were looking for your lost garden, where a bright bush of animated roses had sprouted among the gray stones.


Submitted: January 17, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Igor Mit. All rights reserved.

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