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teenage love poem

our pleasant moments fly
there is no flock, however watched and tended
if i should die, think only this of me
there was a strangeness on your lips
i am singing to you
gloom
skies they were ashen and sober
i saw the first pear
he'd even have his joke
those black eyes i once so praised
for these white arms about my neck
have you not heard
in all things not spoken of

 



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