Confessions of a Simple Man

A poem I re-wrote from a flash fic, a while ago.

Confessions of a Simple Man




I don't need your airbrushed life,

or room full of mirrors.

No delicate manicure, or

ribs I can count through your dress.

I want to trade some flannel for linens,

some cankles for ankles,

dear lord, please send me the gal

who butters her hot, moist muffin

an unusual way.