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As it comes

i am your reflected blusher, your hues  
my pallette, each stroke bristles
icing sugar, none touched sweeter skin  
dark outlines drawn, and crescent brows  
the inside outside face, blacks and browns  
but not disguise, just coke: smudged fire from lips  
their tender burn, the tongue into a velvet urn  
a carpetbagger searching roaming  
and wisp's of hair your curtain's hung  
take you, as it comes  
 
Carol Ann Duffy poem (Whatever)
Written by slipalong
Published
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