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Nov 2013
Sky blue eyes
As clear as the lies
From filthy guilty crimson lips.
Her icy hands trying to grip
She couldn't hold my burning gaze
I threw my love into the blaze.

Wry goodbyes
To both our past lives
I watch them returning to dust.
One last embrace of fiery lust
Reset the clocks and walk away
But I'll smell her flowers someday.
George Atkinson
Written by
George Atkinson  Edinburgh
(Edinburgh)   
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