By Saint Dirty Faceā„¢

I’m not saying I’m innocent.

But I am saying I learned how to sin politely.

There’s an art to that — a rhythm between guilt and grin.

Like saying ā€œforgive meā€ with your eyes while your hands say don’t stop.

See, temptation doesn’t always come in red dresses or leather seats.

Sometimes it’s a laugh that lingers too long.

A text that says ā€œyou up?ā€ at 11:11.

A soul that knows better… but chooses curiosity anyway.

I used to think flirting was harmless.

Then I realized it’s spiritual cardio —

you burn a little pride, stretch your ego,

and maybe break a commandment or two in your head.

The truth?

I don’t flirt to win.

I flirt to remember I’m alive.

To taste that electric hum between ā€œshouldn’tā€ and ā€œmight.ā€

So yeah… I’ll confess:

I like the slow burn.

The teasing before the truth.

The quiet before the kiss.

And the kind of eye contact that writes its own apology.

Stay Dirty, Stay Rebelliousā„¢

— Saint Dirty Faceā„¢

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