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Don't look down.

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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Written by

American

Published: Dec 23, 2012
LinesWords: 947

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