The rawness of old love, of that spirit love, given surely, through the senses - ours is not a trivial mortal affection.
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Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.
The rawness of old love, of that spirit love, given surely, through the senses - ours is not a trivial mortal affection.
This rosy mortal illusion continued to be a consolation, for I knew that we had better purpose than this.