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Jul 2018
foxy swings,
earrings ringing,
isms for the eyes,
plummeting minds.

all wanting the taste,
touch, attraction.
the burn, burn
for the 10 incense.

in the night,
when time makes note.
she rode for form
of the 90° angles.

as smoke sings its birth,
its departure. her black
sun merge to the black son,
in the night.

within the rugged brick,
brown that green this,
warm builds as day ignites,
as she walks the more.

strut, butter hips,
your funky ***.
and too smooth,
I reminisce of.
Written by
Mustapha Olokun  25/M
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