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Frida,

you were wounded in the deep dusk of the forest. I saw your antlers and began to weep, your blood weeping from nine arrows. At that moment in the clearing, I finally saw your eyes. Cupid has clearly been clumsy and you’ve let me become lousy. This deer was enormous, and carried your face.
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Written by
sean-william-carrero
American
Published
Feb 22, 2016
Lines·Words
13·54
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