two flowers, one vase
one real, one fake
orange and bright, catches your eye
orange, dull and faded
still catches your eye but not as much
delicate and smooth,
like a baby.
rough and scratchy
like worker hands.
strong, wild and beautiful
old and mildewy
like a storage room
if I had to chose one,
I’d keep the real and
give the fake away.
with the fake memories not as strong,
as the reals memories
the real had more meaning to me,
more memories, more value
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