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Dec 2014
Tossled leaves upon a matchbox,
an acorn marks the X on the map.
You were here,
now I've arrived.
Imediatley treasuring the gold inside
And now it scrapes and scratches and sores,
at this once touched neck,
You touched before,
Like a dainty noose,
Of chestnut coloured curls.
Mollie
Written by
Mollie
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