Back, by popular demand, A Laundry Room Romance

Opening the door of the washing machine,
I was greeted with a heart-wrenching sight.
That elusive red sock had fooled me again,
And my underwear was no longer white.

I stifled a sob of disappointment
as I loaded it into my basket.
My laundry room street cred was now, very much,
Dead and buried in its casket.

Pointing and laughing all around me,
I was mocked lousy by all.
Then in you came with your fairy liquid-tabs
And my life changed once and for all.

Your eyes met mine with a smouldering look,
And then, leaning in ever so slowly,
You whispered to me seductively,
“Do you think this is Dry-Clean only?”

My heart raced at hearing your voice
And I threw my washing to the floor.
The fabric softener exploded at my feet
As you slammed the washing machine door.

Our lips locked in a passionate embrace,
and we made love against the dryer,
The smell of his biological liquid tabs
Sending me even higher.

I shall never forget our whirlpool romance,
my mystery, laundry-room lover.
But it never worked out between the two of us
When I caught you doing washing for another.

All the while, though, I have to think
That could it ever have been,
I highly doubt it would have continued anyway,
For there are stains one simply cannot clean.


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