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First [paper] Love
Darling can you do nothing?
Blank-faced, un-named
all day.
Must I always serenade you?
Must I always decorate you?
With undivided passion
I gently stroke your edges
and rest you, in your pristine state
amongst a bed of roses.
Day and night I toll
to make you a part of world.
My Sweet, I give you everything.
Blind, entrapped
everyday.
My first and my last. My sun and my stars.
I will stay with you 'till the end.
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A writer's love for her work is one-sided, always.