Stop, Collaborate and Listen!
by Francine DuBois
His mix tape revealed to her obvious cries for copulation,
From the cheesy "Let's Get Together" by Hayley Mills
(Which only caused her to doubt his sexual orientation)
To the sleazy R. Kelly's "I Like the Crotch on You"
(Which only made her giggle between disgusted snarls).
She never trusted boys who wrote poems with her name in it,
Knowing herself how easy it was to create something bland,
Something loosely based on the plot of an AT&T commercial,
Only with more flowers and faux Shakespearean rhymes,
And entitle it "Because I Love You, <insert name here>."
She also never trusted romance, knowing that flowers die,
Candy just caused her face to break out,
And nearly everyone in Shakespeare died or was a girl in disguise.
Candles made smoke, which set her allergies off,
Wine gave her headaches, greeting cards made her gag,
And Italian food always made her feel bloated.
So she was reduced to getting mix tapes as gestures of affection,
Which actually rather pleased her. She adored overanalyzation,
Deconstructing her partner's musical tastes with unboundless joy
Early in the relationship, and deadly repressed anger later on.
Yet, while she rebelled against all trappings of pastoral romance,
Deep down she was still clutching flowers in a gingham dress,
Standing in a meadow on a breezy day. Instead of ripping flowers
Apart to tell her true love's feelings, an action she always considered
As the literal definition of "deflowering" despite her knowledge
She would pick apart the tape song by song, silently chanting "he
He loves me not" as each song clicked away, singing what no one
Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's
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