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OLD LOVE

Tis one of such commission,
Requiring tact, wit and disjointed emotions.
Write I must, of a distant season and love,
A pleasant time which was not to be, but was best lost for both entwined. 

Its all fair in the game of romance,
The seething tears, lonely night was not all fair,
That one should forfeit what was dear, 
pretend years would obliterate,
For a future not foretold.

There is joy in pain,
Reminisce in privy was the only succor to find,
The glint of almond coloured eyes in laughter,
Stolen moments of passion, secret getways to brave open rebuke that we ll be locked in appendages forever in milliseconds.
Which you find now in the arms of another.

Tis was better to have loved,
To have stared deep into your soul once, 
Cherishing every moment while we cross paths,
Knowing the endeared value of friendship that now holds us bound forever,
To love you like a brother, a past lover and friend. 
Tis was better to loved you in time past.

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