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liefde love poetry quotes schrijven writing

Whispers

Even the house, where we lived together for years, became a source of anguish. Whenever I started to forget her, I’d hear it whisper her name. And when there was no response, it would then turn to me, moaning, with always the same torturous and heart wrenching question: Where is she…where is she? I’d always lie, and tell it she will be home soon.

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