MN (January 13 / )

Do Me A Favor-Drop Dead, Miss Drop-Dead-Gorgeous

Miss Drop-Dead-Gorgeous… Really.
They told me about you, you know.
They say you’re beautiful, gorgeous, in fact.

Your teeth are small white pearls, perfectly aligned,
Against which my own cubes, my crooked grin, cannot hope to compete.
Your face, a radiant flush of health dappled onto your cheeks,
Makes my own pallor all the worse.
Your sapphire eyes are liquid pools of lucid eternity, calling to the world,
Whereas mine are unfathomable emerald enigmas, too hard to crack.
Your hair, raven silk, falling perfectly down your back,
Mine pulled into a ponytail, too much to bother with.

I’m no match, Miss Drop-Dead-Gorgeous.
You win, and you know it.
That’s why you’re giving me that smirk behind his back…

Hey, Miss Drop-Dead-Gorgeous-
Why won’t you just…
Drop Dead.

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Comments (1)

Aaaack, can I ever relate to this. This poem puts the FUN in funeral and a lot of chicas will concur-you've chosen a great topic and written about it superbly.