Wilting
Like a fast fading flower
that wilts, by the hour,
our love life could do with fresh water,
but you fight like a bull
and though life's not dull,
you never give me any quarter!
I don’t quite know what to make of this one. The term “continual slaughter” troubles me. May I suggest “repeated slaughter”? Do you think, logically, it’s any less odd with slaughter? Maybe not.
I don’t quite know what to make of this one. The term “continual slaughter” troubles me. May I suggest “repeated slaughter”? Do you think, logically, it’s any less odd with slaughter? Maybe not.
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Thanks for the feedback. I have changed it, and am happy to do so. I don’t want you worrying! π
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ππ. Only change it if you like it!
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No. You were right. I’ve changed it completely, and it is better.π
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Good one! Yes!!!! Now I feel truly sorry for the poor victimised individual.
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πIt does read much better, so thank you!
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Oh, splendid, Hobbo. When loves a bouquet, you can number the days.
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Especially carnations
from the local gas station!
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Hey, those are hardy lil buds. Might even have time to get sick of them before you toss them in the bin. π
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π Are you sure you haven’t been given the plastic ones!
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succinct and sharp, it’s a poem I can relate to —
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Thank you John. Me too, at times!
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