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A love poem about the most invisible woman:The perfect mind, the perfect cover.I knew her, like… there was no other.No, I will never, her, forget.In pure blood - these words are set.She walks alone now, in my dreams,where no is never, so it seems.The night is dark, and near the hour –to plant a tree, where roses flower.And then, again, again, once more,Till hidden is what I adore.Her heart was pure, and also kind,And I… should not have acted blind