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Spice
regrettable my outburst
but this is just how I feel
on the grid-iron of my fire
scorch marks dont heal
bad scrams to your lover
you were always a tart
he'll shortly see through
that hard nutmeg heart
my naive sapphire ring
Christmas gift unzipped
in return a Judas-kiss to
a lone moss-lined crypt
you callous as quartz
pretending to be fond
be...
Wednesday 27th January 2021 10:57 am
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