A Fine Line
P
Patricia Gale
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Hate and love tis a very fine line
One walked daily for some
By candlelight they dine
Then fight like ravens over the last crumb
Love when the satisfaction arrives
But hate when the words begin to stir
Seen through each heart is love’s knifes
How she prays they could be like they were
Before his heart became stubborn
And advantage was his best friend
But she lays silent and her heart does mourn
As she whispers low and prays for the end
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