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beloved pink
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Hyacinth garden being stripped down to his amity spread
all the same, she precipitated herself into the middle of
his head
he would do anything for her desires
would she rejoice to be by his side?
his currents feel her emotional fires
confines convey but still he would ride
her advent is more eloquent than his poem
her taste sweeter than a honey muffin
he feels his need as a fulcrum for remaining lonesome
he can’t outlast her pagan passion
some curious blend
it is not hard to comprehend
he needs the ink of her beloved pink
