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Wall Street Journal Love Poem: My Prince
He was rare.
When he embraced me,
he made me feel at home.
With him, there was peace.
With him, I was never alone.
We were part of each other--2 years.
Spontaneous.
Patient.
Free.
That day.
April 21.
He died.
He was the first...the last.
My prince.
“Prince, a Prodigious Musical Talent, Dies”
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