| |
I saw you read those magazines,
the story on the lips that could be made
into something better, as they said
forever kissable, through man made means.
Enhanced,
advanced,
fix wrinkles,
and folds
in short, it's augmentation women need.
Botox is just a minor tool,
to look so cool,
plain woman is a silly weed.
I hasten now to let you know
it's poppycock they're telling you.
I'd hate to see you tamper with
perfection; nothing is amiss
the way you are, my love, is bliss.
Herbert Nehrlich
|
|
User Rating: |
|
--
/10
(0 votes) |
|
|
|
E-mail this poem to e friend