Now, at least, allow illusions to deceive me that my hollow life will go unseen. I was so close so often, though. How I seized up, and how I faltered! why did I remain, lips closed, my hollow life within me, weeping, and my longings in their widow's weeds? To have been so close so often to the eyes and to the lips of love, the dreamed of, the beloved body. To have been so close so often.
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