Bad Poetry #2

Last night I was whispering sweet nothings into the ear of a beautiful woman. Here are some of them. Today was the first day in six that I didn’t have the panini. Yes I know it’s bad but it’s easy and warm. Just like she is.
I cuddle up to her. 

Oh you’re so soft and warm and beautiful. Like a Costa™ Pigs in Blankets Panin.

She pushes me away. “Oh I knew it!” Presumably in reference to my hobby of saying dumb shite.

You’re sweet and just a little fruity. Satisfying.

I want you everyday. You’re at your best when really meaty.

500 calories. Manufactured out of town.

You’re £2.44 on staff discount and take four minutes to heat.

The man in the paper rated you two stars.

[Male co-worker] told me that you tasted good when I was thinking of picking you up for the first time.

Oh, she pulls a face. Thats too far? 

You aren’t really like the sandwich. I’ve got you for more than two months a year.

1The first bad poetry was basically the same. But with the moon.

Notes Void   [ + ]

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