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They Tell Me I'm Sultry
My chin, sculpted, bronzed by the sun,
My lips, lush, paradise pink,
My shoulders, blue, styling skin-deep,
eyes hazel, speckled in a green hue,
hair, rugged, in curl warfare,
cheeks, lost in a liquid glaze,
brought on by my own teary haze,
They tell me I'm sultry, a wanton, a flirt,
oh to be treated as more than dirt,
I wish to not be caught in a wistful gaze,
but instead, live in my own euphoric blush,
maybe one of a lust-less crush
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