There once was a woman so gorgeous so frail,
Who never removed her wedding day veil.
She sat in her home and smiled and wept,
And clung to her breast a photo she kept.
This photo was taken of her most betrothed,
A man who she loved, and man who she loathed.
A man with a beautiful porcelain smile,
A man who left her alone at the aisle.
So long story short she chopped him in slices,
And used him quite literally to cure her own vices.
A piece for brunch, lunch, and more,
A piece for the Wilsons who moved in next door.
Sorry to say there's no message to teach,
No metaphor here or limerick to preach.
This is a story that cures no desires,
A story with few (if any) admirers.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC
There once was a woman so gorgeous so frail,
Who never removed her wedding day veil.
She sat in her home and smiled and wept,
And clung to her breast a photo she kept.
This photo was taken of her most betrothed,
A man who she loved, and man who she loathed.
A man with a beautiful porcelain smile,
A man who left her alone at the aisle.
So long story short she chopped him in slices,
And used him quite literally to cure her own vices.
A piece for brunch, lunch, and more,
A piece for the Wilsons who moved in next door.
Sorry to say there's no message to teach,
No metaphor here or limerick to preach.
This is a story that cures no desires,
A story with few (if any) admirers.
Request permission to use this poem