Works every time---

Bad Poetry Series: Lousy Terza Rima

Our first kiss made me question the extent of his personal hygiene

For the residue his sticky fingertips left on my face

Made me realize that he was in fact not so clean

Bile surges up with memories of his breath

It brought tears to my eyes like the sting of mace

Yet further, I question how it did not cause my death

When he nuzzled his head into my nose

I realized that his waxy hairdo was in fact not gelled

It was his negligence to shower; with bodily grease so his follicles rose

Then he confessed to me that he washes only once a week

With this confession, my questions about his odor were meekly quelled

I am sure this ordeal would have made anybody’s eyes leak

That sliding sensation in my stomach was not love butterflies; it was nausea

That fluttering feeling in my chest was not love hummingbirds; it was a heart attack

Oh Moment of Travesty, if you were a DVD I would have paused ya

If you were a novel, I would have flipped the pages to get past this scene

Yet recalling this anecdote is like swallowing a sprig of ipecac

So to all, let this be a lesson on the value of personal hygiene