Pretty Girl

They love me for the red, fullness, and curve of my lips. They would love to pass their hands at the curves of my hips. They would like to stay strong in the firm of my thighs, It's okay, wishing is nothing wrong, but their wishes only stay high. They love me for the clearness of my skin. They wish I would be their porcelain doll and fall straight in their arms. The pace of my steps makes them go crazy, and they say my waist is amazing. And when I’m walking and turn my head slightly their eyes just start wandering. They like the ride of my booty, The roundness of it. And they start getting moody, when they know they can't have it. They roll their fist, as they smell my mist, thinking if they should or they shouldn't not doubting that I’m the one. They start dreaming of the arc of my back. They say my long legs are the most beautiful. And then their hearts start pounding more fast. And they shout that I'm the most wonderful. They love my fashion. They adore my smile. They love me with passion. But their dreams just stay higher. My shoulders are as straight as can be. They say that my style suits me well, And my cloth couldn't fit me any better. They love my feet. They say that they would love to be the ones to do my pedicure. They get the flu, they can't resist. They say I have the cure. The waves in my hair fly in the air, and when the aroma catches their noses they jump in despair. They love the white in my teeth. The size of my breasts. They say that for me they would make a feast, Because no one like me is as best.