Her
face was partly pasty from dry 'spittle' down her cheek
That eased mid neck ‘ghast opened mouth
while snoring through the week
She’d toss and turned as washers churn - thus, shook their ‘pillowed’ wall
Her partner rocked and rolled most nights… with hopes… to sleep he'd fall
She woke one Sunday morning with her hair all in a tease
And could have caught three fish with it then scooped them all with ease
Her eyes were somewhat bloodshot from ‘boot-whisky proof’ she drank
The night before she downed two jugs… then puked ‘chud’ in a tank
The breath smelled somewhat 'sewaged' and soo aromatic strong
Like musty sheets or back-way streets damp rain soft ‘mildews’ on
Her teeth sport ‘stale glazed-mucus’… packing Dunkins 'tween each cheek
Absent a single brush or two to ‘spruce’ her smile each week
She loved to ‘troll’ for nuggets.... crass - she’d pick her nose outright
And scratch ‘proud zits’ 'tween hairy pits 'til ‘tickled-tongue’ takes
flight
Her words soo rough most sailors as she’d cuss a storm to sea
Brought burly men to blush and cringe… ‘said words’ which gaggled me
We’ve guessed what you’d be thinking… yet be not too quick - you judge
Her lover kin and bedroom friend - he carries no such grudge
He thinks that she’s - ‘his perfect’ and forever hopes to hear
Kind words that whew - from loving ‘phew’… who brings much ‘bedroom’ cheer
Once
Goldilocks ‘felt’ weary so she sought ‘some’ place to rest
‘Mid
the cottage of her neighbors – ‘Willow bears’ from Honey Crest
Though
she fully spent - ‘selected’... as par ‘little queens’ befit
The
‘best choice’ of three beds offered to her utmost benefit
What
works for ‘some’ does not for all... our hearts don’t beat the same
One’s
beauty could 'your’ ugly be should such sully your name
Those
of us who seek ‘familiar’ - cognizant of good and bad
Know
‘familiar’ masked as ‘perfect’… absent which… our quests would ‘gad’
Should
some seeking ‘affirmation’ from companions ‘prove’ futile
Well…
might we suggest... “Seek perfect things ‘your’ soul so breaths worthwhile”
Fierce
protect such things - you matter... nourish well the joys they give
For
to ‘love’ it is essential ‘our’ fears die that ‘soul’ may live
‘Mid
the eyes of some beholders… ‘perfect’ is a state - your mind
Such
few souls are ‘earthly-centered treasures’… seeking ‘fits’ in kind
And
shared views of what ‘seem’ splendid are not formed so haplessly
From
vast ‘public-polled opinions’ skewing ‘true’ identity
Thus
adopting ‘others’ visions of the dreams to ‘them’ hold true
Is
‘clear recipe’ for madness... something ‘felt’ - our ‘soul’s sense’ knew
If
our hearts and souls don’t guide us to ‘their’ perfect harmony
We
are doomed to aimless wander ‘twixt blank space – most certainty
Some
good people to ‘their’ passions do not always ‘seem’ - good match
Much
like ‘jam and eggs’… though tasty... seem so clumsily attached
Yet
because our friends hate something that is thing ‘we’ love so true
Doesn’t
mean that ‘social standards' which accord us joy – will you
Seek
your 'picture-perfect' woman... she’ll mime mirror of ‘her’ mate
Sole
view of her ‘surface trappings’ won’t reveal ‘concealed estate’
Should
you ‘seek’ divine her ‘true self’ - mitigate your ‘quest’s-dishevel’
Look to ‘ever-transit' river beds… which ‘always’ find - ‘their level’