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Finale

Spot clean
garments of love
so only the stain
remains.

.

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Love Letter #71: The Vine

You and I are seamless souls,
but, he is in the midst
of our spirits, our breaths;

the vine that holds these branches.

Let these fruits ripen-
not far from the tree;

winds carry sweetness;
sprinkle stars he strewn,
strategically,

like the union of us.

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Spice of Life

Sometimes, you have to escape
to a soft place where words are warm
like the scent of Grandma’s apple pie.