-~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She puts her hair up in a mop,
loose and tight sweats combined,
that leave everything,
everything,
to imagination mine

except her feet, always bare,
as if she breaths thru her
purple painted toenails,
exhaling her arousal smell

this hydra-headed hairdo mess,
spills up and over, down and under,
**** if it is not the most sexiest
hairdo I ever seen

she catches me staring,
she standing, on the kitchen ladder,
frowns a clowny pretend perturbed,
angry woman little girl pouty look

"what!
what are you looking at?

false exasperation, sighing angry like,
who she kidding....


"me?
nothing!"

"just watching and observing"


and this kids,
is how you write a
******* love poem,
never using
the word love

*******.