Love is a water-filled balloon.
The pricks of an anonymous needle cause it to
spring a few leaks, but it is not beyond repair.
The number of holes will determine the likelihood
of love's bursting into nothing but shreds of what it once was.
Affection and adoration are draining out through the small
punctures, a little at a time.
Don't let
it empty, just hoping not to rip the thinning barrier.
Plug the holes and pray that it holds strong.
There's too much to lose to let it pop.
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