Some were taken
by your beauty,
somewhere, destroyed too.
Some were taken
by your heart,
somewhere, destroyed too.
But why am I the one
still hearing the echo?
Or is it that
I had truly loved you?
Saying "I love you" in a poem
and saying it in front of you —
I hate myself that I couldn't.
If I had,
would it have been us
instead of
it might have been us too?
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