She walked up to me

smelling sweet

while I, stank

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of tomato and meat,

and perspiration lower than the scorching sun!

"May I have several tomatoes

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and a kilo of meat," she aforesaid to me

in a property portrayal a woman of matter.

Her pelt was similar to butter scotch

and her hair

hung on her shoulders

carelessly, nonchalantly...

Her steps, as I had noticed

sang of grace

and her voice

portrayed an aura of confidence.

She was perfect,

or so I scheme.

"Did you hear me, or are you deaf!"

She lashed out,

violently lashing me rear to awareness, authenticity.

Awareness of her presence,

of her beauty, her grace, her fragrance, her smile

and of module her behavior.

"I won't sell," I replied simply.

I aggravated more insults as she walked distant.

She kept wild and ranting

but I reserved my temper

Oblivious to the burgeoning attraction

then I caught a gleaming in her eyes,

my suspicion pound freshly paused

and she caught her breath

and we retributory smiled.

Hate and favored fused.

My absolute ruler parent former told me:

"Son," he said to me. "Never belongings a female and her ways-

she's as cunny and hard as a lion,

as witty as a fox,

so fraught of muscae volitantes same the leopard

and what's worse,

she's as lovely and sweet

as cherry, and all the much enviable."

Now that's thing.

Coming from a autocrat that is.

Or what do you think?

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