He met me by the street,
in his pervet mind he saw me strip,
‘Big butt’, he must have thought, but he couldn’t say outloud what my mirror this morning said with confidence,
‘That’s inappropriate to think’ he must've thought, but not as inapproprate to ask for numbers without due diligence,
Blind to premeditated seenzones He flashes out his cellphone,
His hand shivering and how cute his goosebumps,
must’ve been a trillion volcanic eruption on the himalayas of his skin tone,
He had lesser confidence than the number of laces on any sandal,
‘Type it as Gilberly’ I said, I knew how it is to be turned down when your self esteem is already dusty,
He runs back to his failure of friends and said “I swept her off her feet, that chick”,
I knew he only had as much brain as a broomstick,
I will so seenzone him, he could be a violent man a liar or a rapist and I could be an ex-convict for what it’s worth.
I saw his cellphone but not a quarter of his character,
I will so seenzone him, teach him that numbers aren’t relationships and chemistry should come before the math.
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