A Tigers Growl (day 1228)

You’re drivin’ fine baby
With those blonde curly locks
Deep cut with blazing canons
I feel your fire
And it’s not just those eyes
Darting lightening bolts
Around this lame room
Cheap roses curling around your arm
Inked into the desert sands
That have blown across your skin
I want to feel those fine
Black leather pants
As they slide to the ground
Crumpled about your ruby red toes
Those five inch matte black pumps
A tiger’s growl baby
Is no more powerful than that snarl
Luscious red fully bloomed lips
And hand crafted pearly whites
Baby, what’s your name?

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