She

She’s the one that forgets about digital subscriptions,

loses track of time and umbrellas everywhere;

She’s the one that buys attractive skirts and dresses

though same shirt is the only thing she wears.

She’s the one that swings her mood in fish-nets

when there is nothing left but Sunday sun;

She’s the one who is spontaneous like fire,

A threatening and suffocating shot of rum.

She’s the right one that she things she should be,

I play her games to get acquainted with the girl.

She’s the one who is both pathetic and harmless,

A woman who is beautiful, alluring, fictitious but ill.

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