Fierce; the only word that described the first woman who snatched my soul

She wore her hair in loose braids that flowed to her waist

Her name was Oma; and she was a representation of beauty

Blazing eyes that never wavered, while they held your gaze.

She radiated magic formed from the ashes of her phoenix

She layered confidence on every outfit, and off it she was mesmerizing

Sensual, passionate and expressive; this was how lovemaking with her felt

She loved to draw imaginary lines on her butt unconsciously

And run her fingers on her body, groping her breasts

Just like a lover would; but better

She captured me with every fragment of her soul

Defining beauty in her own way

A package of love handles, flabby arms and belly fat

Mixed with sensuality, beauty and class

Not normal, just Oma

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