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On Love

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Poets write of love.
Feelings, fullness,
of love.

Poets are misconceived,
for love is not all it seems.
Poets cover up
the rips in the heart,
the tears in the eyes,
of a lost, lost dream.
A lost, sad dream.

I am full of love,
take it, will you?
For with all this love.
This beautiful, mesmerizing love.
There is sadness
and huge holes in my heart.
With all this love I have,
I am lost.





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