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Jan 2015
The night comes alive, the look in your eyes
like poison disguised as wine.

Fire runs through my veins
Like fools gold I'm memorized.

The sound of your voice slips down my throat,
your hands at the small of my back.

The room spins around again and again,
visions once light fade only to black.
Iris Blanche
Written by
Iris Blanche
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