These bristles twinge my hide,
For a second I worry of looking a poor shave.
I chuckle;
No one to impress now, silly.
I look down,
For a second I worry of looking a poor dress.
I chuckle;
Chairs aren't meant for standing,
I'll fix that, love.
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 2:07 PM UTC
These bristles twinge my hide,
For a second I worry of looking a poor shave.
I chuckle;
No one to impress now, silly.
I look down,
For a second I worry of looking a poor dress.
I chuckle;
Chairs aren't meant for standing,
I'll fix that, love.
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