How real can I say my love is for you,
Since each day, the past and present diverge?
Is it true that man can love a statue?
On idolatry, I and he converge:
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Memories and sculptures capture the past,
Outside dreams, now can never be before,
So only at shadows does my love grasp,
Reliving battles of some bygone war:
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The you in my heart is a creation,
Just an imprint I made to save your grace;
Nothing but a mental machination,
To save me from heartbreak just to save face:
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If just your picture fills me with such bliss,
Then how much joy from your love have I missed?