Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Tes Autres Femmes (a poem)

Long black stockings, grey mini skirts,
You want them all garnished, with great sense of flirts,
One, or two chats last, with the end of dance and desserts,
It's perfect that they love treats, you do the exerts,
More "Autre Femmes" for yourself, you assert

"Tes autre femmes" whose bodies are thin, 
Whose faces crystal clear, hide their darkening flint
Whose stockings are black and alluring,
Hide something which disgusting, 
"Tes autre femmes" who say would run in sprint,
To chase thee but they didn't
Whose words sound as pure as nature tint,
Hide profanities sound bitter as rotting mint,

You assert, more "Autres femmes",
I ask you my lass, do you enjoy the actual scums,
inside "Autres Femmes" you thought were bubble gums?

I ask you my lass, is your love true to love or true to sum?
Cause you, wanting "Les Autres Femmes" seems never succumb

April 29 2014

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