The Dress
Slinky green silk cut dangerously high.
Skin pale as milk; a glimpse of white thigh.
Swinging and clinging to hips that sway,
Thin fabric skimming; legs on display.
Shining gold hair, swept up in soft waves.
Florid yet fair: bare shoulders, smooth planes.
Sending bold glances, sneaking smug smiles,
Dangling chances with feminine wiles.
I must confess, without guilt or regret,
I wore this dress just to make you sweat.
I must confess, this is all a ruse -
I wore this dress just to torture you.
Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2013
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