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Lady Tantalus MAG
You
are
arsenic
and ambrosia
to a muddled,
unripe
soul.
You
take
my hope
and dangle
the sweet fruit
of it
before me,
its
nectar
dripping
warm and honeyed
onto
the fullness
of my lower
lip,
teasing
my restless
tongue and
draining
down
the supple
curve
of my chin
and throat
like blood
from
a fresh wound.
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