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May 2018
His hand clamped around her wrist,
Held firm beneath the tree.
He inhaled the fresh and warm air,
Smelled the lilac and the sea.

She glanced at him so slyly,
Warm lips curled into a grin.
If only she could tell him,
If only she could win.

When he found her in the corner
She warned him of her sin.
He pulled her from the ground then,
Her once full frame now so thin.

She told him he must leave now,
She pushed, a gentle shove.
His red lips met her chapped ones,
"I'll never leave, my only love."

But just then, two weeks later,
He placed a lily on her grave.
A tear rolled down his dry cheek,
The only one he couldn't save.

Still he sits, beneath the tree now,
Smells the lilacs and the sea.
She's just a whisper in the wind now,
"But the only whisper that's for me."
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