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If all we had so great ***
but the devil numbed the pillow talk,
Our love was tangled in webs
Scribbled out by the chalk.

Our pleasantries became repetitive
unlike the spark when we first meet
And a kiss on the cheek was a given,
No passion that was never driven.
We had both worked out
we each deserve the blame,
for the love that diminished
carving in trees in our names.
Our little bark masterpieces
Little deep sculptures fading,
& our love keep perishing
like the strongest of droughts.

— The End —