...well, from my brother to my father, men seem to like a woman who listens to them, but...where's a man for me?!
Why does the basement air reek in betrayl
...Of turkey soup, til I hate that from hence,
Though dinner was a tasty thing fr'intents?!
Sleep early; and now midnight to avail
'Non tiptoes closer, yawn too loudly, frail
As aught excuse, the joys of which pretense
Gone stale? Why kin I laugh, like's some defense,
Oer broken dreams, while that scent seems t'exhale?
I need to showr and go to bed. What were
The right, erm, speeches that'd cull whom would woo
To be a true man? Is all any stir
Some bad joke like the soup I'd caref'lly brew
From our Thanksgiving dinner? Why's love poor?!
If I need to, um, listen...where are you???
You know, *cough, cough*, putting that favourite hooded sweater in the wash finally cured the odd scent which haunted with that soup....if you were curious.