An exercise in vanity:
The girl in the bar has dark hair like
Ripples of water and earth and joy.
Her lips are dark and pull up at the edges like a poorly kept secret.
Her eyes are covered in sparkles and wrinkle as she smiles at her friend.
They reflect the flashing multicolored club lights in chambered facets.
The girl in the club moves
In a way that is entierly in her body.
Her legs and arms hold barely contained power.
Like she could bust of her own skin in
A fit of sheer vitality at any second.
She throbs louder than the speakers and flashes brighter than the disco lights.
And in that moment she is perfect.
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