It's no surprise that your communications,
despite his vicious, petty administrations,
come to his calamitous defense
but everybody knows you're not that dense.
It's true, you two do make the perfect pair
when you run your fingers through his famous hair,
but oft I wonder if there's something wrong
when you're communicating with his dong.
Do you lie on your back and think of England
and bored do you massage his little lingam
to press the point and get it over with?
It's true most men can't find the trollop width.
It's not his fault! At least that's where you stand,
but would you tell us if the sex was bland?
Judgement deems that you would make him throb.
I'm sure that's true when he's not snogging knob.
But as it stands you simply must accept it.
His love of man's entirely too eclectic.
He is a fool; I'm not afraid to say it.
That's why I've chosen couplets to convey it.
What better way to tell a man to suck it
than to beat his girlfriend with a couplet?
If there's a better way to fashion slight
I do not think that it would have the bite,
and my propensity to tuck and run
is easily too abecedarian.
That is why I feel I have to say
his fair armoire should be your frank dismay.
He looks like my sister anyway.
Should my revilements have taxed your ear
remember this before I go my dear -
when I lie on my back I think of you,
there in my thoughts your modesty subdue
and dream that you're a porn star kind of date.
It's fun to masturbate to those you hate!
Now one more thing before the final rung
is reached by argentite and fatal tongue:
please don't think my verse mere recompense.
I just don't like you, that is my defense.