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By Jo Boustead

I read the cards

long ago,

my fate was sealed

with champagne and bones.

A dance with the Devil,

wicked but sweet,

alone in the throne room

we were always discreet.

Grasping at the Heavens,

wings torn from flesh;

feathers matted with blood,

the price I paid to confess.

Cast into the darkness

flames lick my skin,

the Devil, once my foe,

the protector of my sin.


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