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Love can be trite;

two hearts as one-

plasticine, trendy,

staccato and quick.

But old love,

our love,

is a slur,

blurry margins of life

intertwined through

the living part, the hard part, the hurting

and the joy –

going away, coming back

together, a

sometimes neat,

often messy

(or so it seems)

existence,

of legato

deliberate

song

By Melissa Kro.

Slur

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