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Ms. Sira

How it felt about when she smiled

Her roses were red wine

Teeth were an iceberg in a cold sea

I didn't know she knew me more than by name

I walked head up to her in a confident laze

She always willed to lay a hand in a steamy time

 

Whenever she called me by my pet name

I would light up a grin

How I couldn't help her spell

How much I belied of having a way out

The more she drew close, the more I sank in

How she made seduction a white collar trade

The lavish eyes, the lazy talk, the pure feminine mien

 

She pat on my shoulder and turned to catch a glance

Asked what made her hands a soft pleasure

Whispered that she was schooled in pottery and making dough

I couldn't stop but ask about the flawless curves

She pushed out her lips and said  I used to spin a ring at nine

 

I asked her out for a movie

She said tragedies make her cry

One day I went to look down through my office windowpane

My sight met hers taking down a secret gang

With a fierce nine millimeter gun

I was left speechless in awe

 

We needed to rethink our revolution

On her mission in Damascus a plane crashed

I still cried a pail.

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Written by
Mugerwa_Muzamil
M / Uganda
Published
Feb 3, 2018
Lines·Words
27·225
Notes

This was inspired by a mysterious beautiful lady who used to help me out at work whenever I was clueless

Tags
#love#revolution#seduction
Permission

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Tell Mugerwa_Muzamil how you would like to use it. We review requests before forwarding them.

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