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Jillian
Poems
Jun 2020
His Lot
He gives me lightening
With those fingers - as slender as the Devil's
He gives my brain the scramble,
With those looks - they haunt my reason
I know he thinks he's teasin,
But in the end, it's always me he's pleasin'
He could be playing his lot with the girls,
Tell me, then
Why he has practiced me to perfection?
Written by
Jillian
19/F/Tennessee
(19/F/Tennessee)
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