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She asked him how he was He said: “Everything is fine.” She smiled and left and did not know she was everything
What is left of all that snow? A trickle of water running down the gutter...
Death sang its sad song for the hundredth time My heart shook for the hundredth time
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I have never seen anyone talk of the wind’s beauty when watching kites fly
I threw away everything to forget you. The house was empty.
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