Eight excuses to get out of this,
but none were good enough.
Fourth outfit later and a lot of makeup
(Because, after that week, I looked rough)
I don't know why I bothered,
When I knew I'd rather stay home.
Taxi was outside, my hair wasn't dry
but I guessed I'd have to go.
I arrived at the party, no-one was dressed smartly,
I felt like such a tart.
I tripped through the door, falling onto the floor
and my shoe strap came apart.
An extended hand from a rather tall man
helped me onto my feet.
His eyes were blue, his hair was cute
and his smile was ever so sweet.
As soon as he spoke, we laughed and we joked.
We just seemed to gel together.
I wanted to believe that I wanted to leave,
but I wished I could stay there forever.
Staring into those eyes, I began to realise...
Shit, I left the oven on.
أنت تقرأ
A Collection of Poetry Vol. I
الشعرA collection of previous poetry written by me, left the way it was when I discovered it. There are no specific genres or forms to these.
