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Had she been a pianist

he might have crushed her fingers.

Had she been a painter

he could have left her blind.

Or were she a poet

he would have taken her tongue.


But she was none of these.

She was a lover  

and he need only

to break her heart.


A poet who cannot speak,

a painter who cannot see,

a musician who cannot perform;

none more lost 

than the lover

who can no longer love.