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seashells

 

every inlaid seashell
in the grotto where we were in love
has its particularity
one has the purple of our souls
hidden in our heart's blood
when I burn and you catch fire
this one affects your languor
and pallor when weary
you hate me for my mocking eyes
this one here counterfeits the grace
of your ears and that one there
your pink nape short and rich
but one among others troubled me

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