To where did you decide to run, my love? What thing made you take flight and leave this place? I would have found a way to stop the shove, That took you away, outside my love, my grace. You can be like a skittish foal, I know. As love by you is haunted, cut by fear, I might, you think, in lust let love to grow; Unsure; but no my commitment is clear. Bemused, that sure remains; all that
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