Genie

Phone calls turned into texts,

Love spells turned into a hex,

No longer any sex,

So clearly it’s next.

No chance for a chance,

No hands,

I don’t dance,

Seductively I prance,

Never dropping my glance,

As his hands reach for my pants,

Subliminally playing for his fans,

Naive to my power,

He never stood a chance.

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