Forked

It is a ladle odd to spoon with a knife that couldn't carve with any care on the plate you two do share. If it is spare-rib or steak or caribou, you prong a promise, as blades carry through, to guide their slicing slide, to always b brave & stay true. But what do they do? They cut

you too.

The other couples are happy, oh god, that filled up cup will get its milk chocolate strawed.

That cabbage and carrot got thrashed savage It was hell but they wear it well living lavish and careless like a crisscrossed boss tossed in a bowl of sweet coleslaw sauce.