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Soul  (Published in Quillopia)
Oh my beautiful Soul
don't turn your face 
like this anymore.

 You are the pen of my paper
where each word 
has meaning no more.

 If I am a curtain
you are the wind of love
if I am a glass
you are the water of each drop.

                                       Even wine fails to let me forget
                                      the taste of your tongue 
                                      your eyes are the door
                                      where life seems to come.                     SMRITI THAKUR

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