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The Valentine

The hush has reigned again, it brings me my very tension. The car flashed past and tried to break the hush, but the dare was vain, it just stayed in the background.

While I think of you, my thoughts run to the hush, like if they were searching for anything there.

What is it, that captures me - your bursting emotions, your sudden thinking then, all your mocks or when you play secrets? How do I love you, if I do? And what do you think about me?

I feel myself closed, I don't know but what chains me. Is it my idle waiting?

Why don't you talk to me? Have I held you to myself far better than you are? But I don't care, as my heart bleeds for you, and my mind is boiling about you. I wish I knew, when do you find me more insane - while I wait for you, while I fear to lose you?

Now I'm dipt into my hush, here I'm trying to tell the echo of my recent offence to you from my vague hope, which's fusing - through the tears - with the light, reflecting on the frozen window. Here I'm listening to my heart, to the whisper of its bottom deep, to its scrappy fears and doubts, and the loose burst to take your hand with its bitten nails, to see your crooked smile with its mocking corners is growing in me.

Wherever you are, I'll be knocking to you; I will come anytime through the blind shade by the narrow path of moonlight.

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