Poor Petunia

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She heard him stumble in
Smelling of smoke and cheap wine
It was half past two
And he had crossed the line

She’d been sound asleep
In such peaceful repose
Then he staggered in
And began licking her toes

She tried to be nice
Even gave him a quick wink
But she was tired of his shenanigans
Whenever he would drink

So she rolled right over
And ignored his advances
He needed to learn
There were only so many chances

© 2018 Michelle Cook


*This is Petunia’s side of the story, you can find Peter’s here.