Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish the source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies on illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering of tarnishing.
But then again,
There's this place in me where your fingerprints still rest, your kisses still linger, and your whispers softly echo. It's the place where a part of you will forever be a part of me.
Love Always,
Natasha A. Juan
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