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May 2014
You move with limbs of snake,
Mind of ice, heart of coal,
Hurl hooks from your tongue;
You burn me with your eyes;

You destroy what bores you,
And leave a cloying perfume--
A scent of death in the air--
Still I crouch at your feet.
Written by
Tia Marie bowers  Cali
(Cali)   
683
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