Yes, She Knows.

Like a rose by the river banks,

Her beauty shines incessantly,

A peacock among warthogs,

Her steps sedated, she walks proudly unhurried,

Yes she knows, she is the one.

The rhythmic swinging oscillates of her hips,

Hypnotizes into extreme mix-ups and enchantment

Her flawless, masterfully curved physique,

Perplexes and intoxicates, ‘coz she knows.

Yes she knows, she is the one.

An all-inclusive elaboration of splendor she is,

Bu’ her character leaves a stain.

A spot-on depiction of depravity she is,

She traps them all with a magnetic tug

Yes she does, she knows. She is the one.

Not to many but very many of them,

She has been a distractive destruction.

Dreams shuttered, ruined and facing the grave,

She walks out, leaving them mercilessly,

Still blinded by her cambers, they crave for more

She knows, she is the one.

She cares not, whore-name you call,

Legs open, legs closed, she’s the one.

My body, my thighs, my clit, she tells.

She beds whoever she wants.

Yes, she knows. She’s the one.

She pouts, she turns,

She sticks her chest out further,

Yes, she swipes her red lipstick,

Yes, she knows. She’ll always be the one.