My type is tall
with dark hair
and dark eyes.

The whisper of ****** hair
on a jaw so square.
Leave the clean-shaven men
for other girls.

Smart and witty,
with music so gritty.
And a smile so sweet and wide.
Not sure what I implied,
but I suppose I'll now confide
that I'd be the Bonnie to your Clyde.

I recommend a light oil and a short comb, keeping sissors to hand to cultivate that King George V shape or, if you are feeling brave, go for the majesty of a full Henry VIII.

Thicker beard.
Consistent and stringent hygiene habits.
Less swearing, more silence.
Politically informed.

More attentive while driving.
Relocated out of that seaside town where people only feuded.
Avoids familiar faces, except for those that have been held close.
At least the beach is still pristine.

Some miles away, a man believes he deserves everything there ever was.
Indefinite lay-offs for current federal employees.
All military members on leave called back to base.

A box is somewhere.
It has food for one day,
Two passports,
And a pistol.
It sits idly by the door.

I am a lunatic,
I worship the moon from time to time.
I dream and ask dumb things
like love.
She asked me to shave off my beard as an offering for her,
For the moon is my goddess
I do as she commands.
I do not look handsome without a beard,
My nose looks too big for my clean face.
I won't find love with a nose like this.
The moon was playing tricks on me,
She only listens to wolves.

I thought I prefer to see his face
With no beard nor mustache;

But when I saw him,
I knew I was wrong;

And all the ideas of him
Was gone from my head
I knew I was seeing the man that he is;
The raw, the 2 AM version of him
Is standing right in front of my very eyes

But I still got razor in my hand
And a cream;
I was waiting for my turn,
But when he came to me,

I just stared at him like an idiot,
Smiling,
Throwing a glance on his pretty **** eyes
Admiring the mess in his baffling face.

I held it momentarily at my throat gliding
it effortlessly as it permeated in tears of release.

You should have known this was coming,
the signs were there, but I couldn't keep it
hidden. I released the blade upon my throat.

I held it momentarily, then cleansed myself
of a burden that had hung there far to long.

You should have seen your tears in the mirror,
that part of me now gone. Laying on the ground
crumbled lifeless, A history of growth now fallen.

My wife wears the sandals.
I never could. Must wear socks.
She says, No socks with sandals.
It's just not done! Sorry, don't
see myself with scented candles,
wispy beard smoking ***.
No disregards, it's just not my lot.