A crimson spectacle of cruel grace,
The languid curve, a familiar trace.
The glance, a flutter, swift and sly,
Kohl-darkened eyes that never die.
A heartless tyrant, heedless, cold,
A restless fire, a story told.
A heart of stone, a judgment grim,
While honeyed words spill from the limb.
Upon the face, beauty's fiery heat,
Each moment shimmering, pearls compete.
From colored sweat, the drops descend,
A hundred times, their light to lend.
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