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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Romance/Love >> ID #1793693 |
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Dancer Body lithe and supple, blonde hair to your waist, long, shapely legs in tight velvet pants -- stopped traffic (you pretended not to notice). Cosmetic case in tow we'd go to clubs so you'd be seen. We'd drink Perrier, I'd listen and you'd talk about yourself. On your stage you came alive (the embodiment of "Flashdance") high kicking, hair swinging -- every man's fantasy. Ultimately -- a nightmare.
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