For Ashley my love, a sonnet composed in the Petrarchan style, on the occasion of this momentous date, her 25th birthday:
O Ash, when on your sexy ass I muse,
To my thoughts of love I’m ever lured,
And of all lonesomeness my mind is cured,
As I think back on our many fine screws.
Your hotness surmounts my most brutal blues.
Against gloom and dejection I’m inured,
As from floppiness my pecker’s secured,
When from out its helmet my love liquor spews.
Betwixt your thighs alone I wish to lie,
Your boobies only I squeeze for my fun.
‘Tis sight of you which straightens out my crooks
(Or rather my “crook,” as but one have I).
My love, our greatest yarns are yet unspun,
Our future fuckmances still unwrote books.
And I mean every word of it.
Happy birthday, baby!