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She split minds apart when she walks into the room,
the radiance from the scarlet fabric on her honey milk skin polarizes the world to a central view.
Her competitors already know the battle is lost, because every man floats away like a helium filled balloon
Her magic works to the max, when she waltz across the dance floor like a beautiful witch on a Sunday afternoon.
they wonder the name of the architect responsible for her wicked curves, a unique type of geography, surely she must be new.
They think to themselves. She's probably with a politician, maybe a star who's gone home too soon.
I am not worthy, I stink of my experience with the last two.
As they waste golden moments caving into self doubts and relationship blues,
From the shadows, He steps up to stage to play the game of who's who.
He build's her confidence with an honest joke or two,
she buys into his bold point of view.
He excuses himself; gives her time to process his residue.
He makes his return to harvest the seed they grew,
She indulges, he is a perfect distraction from her new fool.
He steals her away for a chat by the pool.
He whisper's some words in her ears, and she feathers herself to recapture her hue.
He tells her "I have a drink that will make your lips think its hosting a party crew."
He makes a gamble like romeo wrote the rules.
With eyes locked, he shows her what his lips can do
The heats building up, she's waiting on him to put on the other glass shoe.
She wonders how to make the night fair and true.
"Let's go" words, he summarizes in two.
Envy and admiration storms up the crowd, only if they knew.
Later they dig deeper searching for clues.
He tells them and they look confused.
Its not about her or you.
Its about building a bridge that brings together two.
Debra A Baugh
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