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She had a silken way of walking..
More like..
an ambulatory exhibition of wanton fascination,
aimed at the visual..
the optical nexus..
the focal point of sight…
A potion wending its way through the webs of a fertile imagination,
capturing every sinuous undulation of sexuality unfettered..

Little did the male men know..
It was never who she was,
It was what we made her..
A star,
A siren,
A seductress,
a purveyor of fantasies..

A load to carry,
heavy in expectation..
but no help,
and only the substance of empty words,
Empty love.

Marilyn Monroe was a star!
Billy Jean was not..
What we never saw,
Was what she knew!