virtuoso
12-24-2013, 11:28 AM
On the first day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
an egg nog-flavored kiss
with a sticky saliva wrapping
On the second day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
two, wick-less, accent candles
dripping with a bourbon scent
On the third day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
three slices of spicy, Rum cake
drooled with a dark sherry glaze
On the fourth day of Christmas
my tipsy, true love gave to me
four French birds, and the
middle nail was stained with champagne
On the fifth day of Christmas
my true love with gastronomic flare
unceremoniously presented to me
five barely-toasted ducks
seething in a Cabernet sauce
On the sixth day of Christmas
my now blue love gave to me
six wilting poinsettias
poached from the liquor store
On the seventh day of Christmas
my now sentimental love gave to me
seven clumsy taps on my bare rear end
On the eighth day of Christmas
my now dizzy love gave to me
eight, grainy wedding negatives
from her drunken reception party
On the ninth day of Christmas
my now part-time love gave to me
nine of her past boy friend's gifts
wrapped in shriveled newspaper
On the tenth day of Christmas
my now gassed love gave to me
ten shrill notes from her high
school flutophone
On the eleventh day of Christmas
my now forgetful love gave to me
eleven urgent texts from her phone
reminding me, no presents this year
On the twelfth day of Christmas
my now passed-out love gave to me
twelve, ghastly snorts from her drunken slumber
my true love gave to me
an egg nog-flavored kiss
with a sticky saliva wrapping
On the second day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
two, wick-less, accent candles
dripping with a bourbon scent
On the third day of Christmas
my true love gave to me
three slices of spicy, Rum cake
drooled with a dark sherry glaze
On the fourth day of Christmas
my tipsy, true love gave to me
four French birds, and the
middle nail was stained with champagne
On the fifth day of Christmas
my true love with gastronomic flare
unceremoniously presented to me
five barely-toasted ducks
seething in a Cabernet sauce
On the sixth day of Christmas
my now blue love gave to me
six wilting poinsettias
poached from the liquor store
On the seventh day of Christmas
my now sentimental love gave to me
seven clumsy taps on my bare rear end
On the eighth day of Christmas
my now dizzy love gave to me
eight, grainy wedding negatives
from her drunken reception party
On the ninth day of Christmas
my now part-time love gave to me
nine of her past boy friend's gifts
wrapped in shriveled newspaper
On the tenth day of Christmas
my now gassed love gave to me
ten shrill notes from her high
school flutophone
On the eleventh day of Christmas
my now forgetful love gave to me
eleven urgent texts from her phone
reminding me, no presents this year
On the twelfth day of Christmas
my now passed-out love gave to me
twelve, ghastly snorts from her drunken slumber