| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
|
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Not Rated |
| >> Static Item >> Prose >> Romance/Love >> ID #1342521 |
| |||||||||||||
|
She ran outside barefoot often,
She didn't own a hairbrush, And she didn't always take the trash out on trashday. Her boyfriend told her she was "hot" This newfound sexiness made her stand prouder, but slowly height was inching off her legs. He thought other things were wrong, like the hairbrush thing, and maybe he liked his water with ice and she just made it warm. Perhaps her hourglass figure thickened in his eyes and a mustache grew.
© Copyright 2007 Mercurial (UN: rebecca.post at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Mercurial has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |