Ooookay. My life is DEFINATLEY weird right now. Tonight TWO of my ex's decided to talk to me. I haven't really talked to either in a VERY long time. Tonight I gave my exhusband (Luke) relationship advice, and it bothered me NONE! This is very very odd. This proves to me that I've grown up ALOT. I mean, I've moved on.. and we ALL know this, but it
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Ashley, you are the bomb.
I love you more than I love my own mom.
You don't scream and call me a whore,
And you don't kick me in the face when I snore.
Ashley, I think you're great.
I want to dress as a Roman and feed you grapes.
Your hair smells of clover and your skin of honeydew.
Your lips are like heaven, well that's what Jon-Eric says about you.
When we get together, the oddities begin.
I am one of your four friends.
The line was thrown in for the sake of rhyme,
Chilling with you is necessary, it's about time.
I want you to sing me to sleep every night.
Because my neighborhood is scary, I tremble with fright.
Every time some other Ethiopian opens his eyes
he makes stars of his sockets and furhters my chronicled demise.
The point of the poem is simple and plain.
I just want to see you again.
So, Pitt Stop tomorrow, and sexiness will abound,
And we'll plan a party once Saturday night comes around.
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Love me with bondage? No? Ok...
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Contradiction and hypocrisy usually take place in all of these journals, more than once. Keep reading for a good time.
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