WhenWhen love is at an end,
I turn to the dead again; they can’t falter from my projection, nor suffer me rejection. When love is at an end, I turn to the dead again. When love is at its start, I walk from them apart, caught in such fanciful delight that is attachment’s plight. When love is at its start, I walk from them apart. When love is at an end, I turn to the dead again. |
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