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Ode to My One True Love

Oh my one true love,
Where do you dwell?
Though I’ve never seen your face
I know your spirit so well.
Every feature, the perfect complement to me,
So no more than five eight-and-a-half
But at least five foot three.
Now, just know that I don’t really like to be picky,
But getting the right eye color is gonna be tricky.
You see, it has to match with what I wear day to day;
Well, grey eyes are good because I like to wear grey.
Brown eyes or black don’t match with most of my things,
But I guess it’s alright for a one night fling.
(We’d just have to be careful, since we’re an unmatched sight,
I don’t wanna get emberazada from that one night).
Blue eyes are best, I love the color light blue,
Just think of all the matching we could do!
We’ll coordinate and go out with a flair,
But we’ll have to make sure it doesn’t clash with your hair.
Hair is very important, you see.
Blonde, brown, or black is fine by me.
Curly or straight – you’ll match with my mood.
Buy a good straightener, that you should.
But red hair is not my view of perfection
For it could clash with my pinkish complexion.
And it better not be the same color as mine,
Or you’ll have to cover it when we go out to dine,
And the waiter will say, “Please take off your hat”
To my boyfriend, or husband (or lesbian lover, at that).
Then they’ll all start to think we’re related.
In the midst of this mix-up we’ll get so berated,
For when my neighbors find out that our daughter’s my niece,
“What an incestuous union! We must call the police!”
Then we’ll have to move out and go live in a ditch –
But never mind, for my soul-mate is gonna be rich!
We’ll have seven houses, and we’ll give to the needy;
Italy, Moscow, Versailles, and Tahiti.
And while he is out, I’ll be surrounded by men –
The irresistible pool-boy, Fernando von Sven.
Just a joke! No others – my love is gonna be hot.
He must have all those qualities the others do not:
A good sense of humor; he can’t be too clingy.
His body: Six pack, Four pack, Tupac, Chingy.
He must be smart and put in an intelligent word:
“The longevity of this delineation strikes me as absurd!”
And he definitely cannot be a flirt
And look back at that ho in the miniskirt.
For if he’s weak, then no matter how hard I try,
It aint no lie, he’ll say bye, bye, bye.
And then I’ll be broken, my dream will be spent,
For my one true love simply came and went.
And I had so believed by the stars in my heart
That fate wouldn’t dare to tear us apart.
The agony of heartbreak will crush me each day –
But oh well – his hair was too long anyway.
I’ll find another one-true-love next time
(Someone to help me finish this rhyme).
He’ll make 6.5 million, treat me like a queen,
Buy me white gold, and have eyes of blue-green.
He should love Smashing Pumpkins and play on the organ,
And he must be related to Billy Corgan.
Each day he will bring me eleven white roses,
We’ll be so in love, breathing the scent through our noses.
Our life has to be perfect, as perfect as he.
That’s all I ask for; the rest doesn’t matter to me.
I’m not really looking into the specifics.
I’m simply hoping he’ll be full of terrifics.
With an open mind, I’m sure to find this perfect guy,
For I don’t like to set my standards too high.


June 4, 2005
Written by PhantomPhace
Published
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