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Love She Wrote

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“Love,” she wrote,
on velvet chaise,
but dropped her pen
on barren floor,
A dagger through
her golden heart,
Her hand outstretched
to write no more,
Her eyes saw not
the broken man,
His hand had donned
a blackened glove,
And from his lips,
an uttered cry,
“Here the lady,
killed by love!”



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