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She loves me She loves me not
Sitting beside the window
Holding the mourning stems,
Ain't asking all
But from you, your and yours, only!
Things in the urn spilt out
Blossoms shattered, like her years heretofore;
Either the stem or thorns being the unfortunate,
Paying for those words from her, every now.
It is, It is not...
© TEJ
Holding the mourning stems,
Ain't asking all
But from you, your and yours, only!
Things in the urn spilt out
Blossoms shattered, like her years heretofore;
Either the stem or thorns being the unfortunate,
Paying for those words from her, every now.
It is, It is not...
© TEJ
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