Jessica, I’m writing you a poem. This doesn’t rhythm. I hope you love it, And you’ll find, That it’s the thought that counts, And the time. Because I phail. Which you already know. I’m sorry that I tried, To write you a poem, Because as of now, I’m about to throw up.
Dearest Jessica, my pride you have taken, and yet I no longer feel shaken. I've learned to cope, it's easier now, but not the same as humping that cow. Why can't you come back? you're leaving me in fear, and every time it splashes me, I think of you to wash it away.
Jessicaax
(Offline)
