Yearn the Yarn of Love

Just like each thread knitted into the swirls, loops and knots of this pretty flower, I wished to knit our love into a blooming flower… Whether I wanted to crochet the pattern of our lives around love or hate, I never could sense. In the end the flowers are gone. My flowers are all gone. Nothing is left. Flowers I wanted of golden, pink, and blue and of lovely red, turned black. All black. They withered. I didn’t know how to do it. I mistook of knowing the loops and steps. I trapped the bead of joy with hatred and abandoned your warmth.

Weaving a life around me? No. I’m sorry I can’t take the responsibility anymore. Let go of me. I can ruin your flower too. Let go off my needle! Your yarn will be burnt. Just go away. Let me burn my yarn alone. Isn’t one life enough in being ruined in yearning a bouquet of crocheted love? Let go off…

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