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my heart is made for warming

my words are meant for screaming

my mind is an autumn sun,

and my soul is a winter moon

you said i am a spell

waiting to be conjured

you move within my madness,

fingers lingering between my meanings

i ask you to pick your poison,

and you choose the heart,

as if it is the safest choice

but didn’t my kiss of crimson

already leave you with scars?

have you already forgotten

what it felt like to burn?

-ashley jane