I Hate Your Teeth
Oh, thine ivory, caked in plaque!
Thy glutinous gloss o’er yellowish tinted bones…
What putrid odor it dost create,
whene’er thy warm and humid breath is blown.
And deep within their tartaric cracks,
the calcium coating makes quite a horrid stench.
And when they grind together and scrape the excess off,
It rather makes me cringe.
I Hate Your Skin
Thy hand is cold and limp in mine,
with skin so clammy smooth.
Thy damp and feeble epidermis
verily kills the mood.
I Hate Your Cold Feet
Your frosty frigid feet are faintly
shivering with reluctance,
your damp and clammy metatarsals
fidget fearing your comeuppance.
Timidly your toes have teetered,
daring now, withdrawing later,
circulation in your limbs congealing to a clot.
Your numbingly annoying hypothermic hesitation
chills me to the bone as you stand
frozen on the spot.