No, you're not buying me those cheap dresses,
No, I won't let that cheap salon style my tresses;
No, I'm not wearing that cheap makeup,
I like my face when I wake up.
Do you really think I'd wear that cheap sportswear?
Oh Please!
I like my workouts trendy!
No, you're not taking me to that cheap restaurant
I'd rather go to Alanis Gaunt;
I like my food like Mary Quant!
And if I say no,
And you decide you hate my status Quo,
There is something you need to know;
The truth of it is,
I'm too expensive for you!
About the Creator
Carol Townend
Fiction, Horror, Sex, Love, Mental Health, Children's fiction and more. You'll find many stories in my profile. I don't believe in sticking with one Niche! I write, but I also read a lot too.
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More stories from Carol Townend and writers in Poets and other communities.
His Haibun
He does not like poetry; I write it anyway and do not tell him. It's true his face is not a poet's face. It is round and open, youthful; too apt to be compared to the sun. His nose is neat. It is impossible to imagine him smoking a cigarette, terse, full of cheekbones and tension. His warmth burns my fingertips. I am here for his fascinating body, the haphazard freckles I touch one by one; he is here for my eyes, just my eyes. A sunbeam sneaks through the curtains and pierces us both, sizzling the spices of his skin. I inhale and wrap myself in him. He kisses my eyes.
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“I realize there are still aspects of humanity that my kind cannot understand or appreciate….” The soft, airy voice resonating from the orb that trailed Teyhx through the hallway of her dorm pleaded with her to see reason. Though, ultimately, the decision was not hers anyways.
By Adam Clost6 days ago in Futurism
Comments (2)
OOO, girl, nice!
😆