Your natural inclination for smileage puts a lion’s share of mileage between me and all that’s acidic. Not being anti Semitic but I’d love to adorn you with a crown of roses: no thorns.
I’ll build us a deer park, and we’ll spoon there, on benches, next to fountains, while Bambi comes to feast on tart greens. Don’t worry. They won’t be offended by our steamy scenes, nor your folded-up jeans.
Girl, say what’s on your mind.
In a universe this size, your big beacon-like eyes make the ether opaque enough to beseech you, and teach you, but what the hell is the point, if my spirit can’t reach you?
Say what’s in your heart.
Say what’s on your mind.
‘Cause the imbedded image of your smileage has faded. I guess we’ve all been a long time jaded.
Who am I to talk?
What’s on your mind?
Smileage
Mileage
Footle for Brian Strand's contest:
What You Will
Funny Robbery
Hiccup
Stick-up
Resort for Primates
Gorilla
Villa
Country Singer Sounds like a Bird
Trilly
Willy
Small Town Dump
Village
Spillage
The Party Pooper
Thriller
Killer
Frigidity
Chillness
Illness
A Deathly Calm
Stillness
Illness
Measure of Happiness
Smileage
Mileage
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