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Priscilla
He liked me brunette,
He dressed me in blues —
I doubted if it merged with my heart
and made me look like the Dark Phoenix .
He redressed my nuances
Down to a category of his likings.

He liked me young
And liked me like him more.
I smelled like Chanel No.5,
It reminds him of his concerts' bouquets;
He noticed it in a whiff — not on me
but a red-head.
he doesn't like red.

- mathi
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