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Paper Love We newspaper talked but more often, screamed, ripping anger, each breathing the fire of blame for his death. But edging closer to black consuming loneliness our desperate eyes finally met. Taping our singed pieces, the stickiness was lost. The glued-on corners wouldn't hold. But through stacks upon stacks of piled time our paper love was stitched together and although there are still a few holes, we wouldn't have it any other way. |
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