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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...

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