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Thursday
May 31, 2012
2:57am EDT


Content Rating Notice: ------ -- Not Rated
Not Rated
  >> Static Item >> Prose >> Romance/Love >> ID #1342521  |   Show DetailsPrinter Friendly Page Tell A Friend
My moustache
A poem about how he stopped loving me
Rated:
------
by
This item has no ratings.
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.
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