Journal
without
Although our love is over, it remainsAn unfrequented garden in my heart,Its beauty quite inseparable from pain,A wilderness where once was willful art. I hope a little piece of you is stillReserved for me, a place you may not go,But where my room, untenanted, can fillA moment with my music, sweet and slow. There are no wishes like a former lover'sThat from the dark, repentant night must shine.And so though we have both moved on to others,I send you from afar this Valentine.
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