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By: seven

Page 1, Flames, heat, and a volcano

   At least, you are all that is left.

   Your scent is in the air.

   I know not which my bed is,

   I am trying everywhere.

   You stirrest my heart in a way,

   I've never felt before,

   And, that no other can.

   You fan the flames of my soul,

   And raise my heat to that, of a volcano.

                 / F /

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