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 [ + ]
|1.||↑||The first bad poetry was basically the same. But with the moon.|