Thursday, November 24, 2011
Same bed and yet they're poles apart. She's plagued
By ghosts, to all intents, while he's progressed.
They no matter what tried to figure out sight,
Like loaves of bread they were locked in peaceful fight.
Huge but soft, the bread sliced thin,
And they were separated powerfully enough.
Afterwards, the way he looked at her
Caused adequate fright to be two inches thick of cloth.