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Some call her sexy
Some call her a dime
Others see her for what is on the outside
But I see her true “color” and
I can read between the “lines”
Her texture is beyond measure
She is velvet to the touch
And plush to the squeeze
Her eyes make me cry
Her voice tingles my soul
And washes it clean
Her siblings call her blessed
Her mother calls her baby
My heart calls her mine
But from what I see on the inside
I call her beauty…

Her life is in her smile
She has endured more than the eye
And mind could perceive
Her hands have healing power
She has more than once
Made me whole again
Her loyalty makes her royalty
Even my anointing has to bow
Before her presence when she is presented
Past me in the present
Some don’t call her anything because of
Awe
Some call her princess
Others call her enchanting
I call her beauty…

Her shine hits me… It’s strikingly
Resembling to the sun itself
Because I heat up when I see her
Sometimes I feel like I don’t even
Deserve her light of day
Because of things I did to her
Some nights
Yet, she is still my lantern
To guide me through dark days
She is transparent to me
I see the scars beneath the scars
She hides nothing
It has come to the point to when I see her,
I see me “photo-synthesis”
Some call her flower
Some call her strong
Others call her sassy
I call her beauty

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