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she walks into a room her hips swiveling like some love-torn thing
and her eyes smoking... puffing opium like evaporated velvet diamonds.
{Marilyn Monroe}
i feel like her. Gentlemen Prefer Blonds and Some Like It Hot... in
the mirror away from her image i walk around, raising an eyebrow at
myself, smiling coyly... tongue runs warm, leaving trails of sultry
dancers with sparkling teeth scented with a touch of gin and tonic;
under the strange, dim light of cigarette smoke you can see the rich
reflection in my lips, soft, shiny, red...
. . . i am your Marilyn Monroe . . .
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