Putting My Feet in the Dirt 18

It was sort of a pout

Putting her lips out

Making a face

In the perfect place

A flirt of sorts

Hear the retorts?

Whistles and grins

Thinking hidden sins

Boys seemed to love it

She wasn’t above it

Using those lips

Swinging those hips

She knew exactly what she wanted

Lavender lipstick perfectly flaunted.

August Writing Prompts


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