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Saying it too late

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His eyes no longer haunting,
his smile no longer great.
His hair no longer perfect.
Himself, I've come to hate.

I gave him all the hints,
I guided him through the clues.
But he turned the other way,
and it was me who he didn't choose.

I loved him very dearly,
his words I've come to love.
But instead of choosing a girl like me
he chose that "angel from above".

Maybe I just envy her,
because she is his date.
Or maybe I love him still,
although I chose to say it late.





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