Ballroom Lust
Her red dress
Pressed
To that beautiful black skin,
She looks like a forest fire
Racing up a mountain top
Burning up
She cannot stop
Her wild curves
Engulfed in flames.
She smolders
In a corner
Of the ballroom,
My eyes,
Like two emptied water glasses
On a tray,
Gliding by
On the shoulder
Of a much younger waiter.
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