The cactus thrives in the desert while the fern thrives in the wetland.The fool will try to plant them in the same flowerbox.The florist will sigh and add a wall divider and proper soil to...
My heart beats to the rhythm of the windshield wipers. I’d better never drive in the desert, unless I want to die. Our relationship has one too many cactuses in it to be deserving of...
So they drove again, Vivien sitting up and looking now, but as navigator only, letting the desert scratch its own thorny poetry on the enormous moon.
I read books so dry even a cactus couldn’t grow on them. But who cares? I’m not a farmer, I’m a thinker.
I realize all guys have thorns. But I am a rose, and she chose a cactus over me. I wish her luck with her dry, desert-like existence with him.
What a surprise. That boy doesn’t have the sense God gave a cactus.
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