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The Dinner It was a misty Friday eve,The Dinner by ~DrumUltimA
Dinner was far too late;
When I walked in that restaurant,
Nervous of this first date.
I was seated at that table,
Surroundings strange and new;
It wasn't 'till the waiter came
That I had spotted you.
I went ahead and ordered, my words
Clumsy and askew,
Your beauty was so distracting
The waiter surely knew!
Well that waiter, he was a saint
Because to my surprise,
He sat you down across from me
Right before my eyes.
Your golden locks, they swirled about,
Framed by your saucy dress;
And as I watched in lust, I found
My love hard to express.
But feelings can be shared with more
Than petty words and
Owed I cannot come to school todayOwed by ~DrumUltimA
Dear teacher, I apologize.
I'm far too sick, so here I'll stay.
My forehead's hot, my skin looks gray,
I feel some burning in my eyes.
I cannot come to school today.
My body's been trembling all day,
I've got a nosebleed all the time.
I'm far too sick, so here I'll stay.
I'm dizzy, and my heartbeat is strange,
I'm sore from my head to my thighs.
I cannot come to school today.
The doctors couldn't solve my shakes
And poor mother has no idea.
I'm far too sick, so here I'll stay.
I tried to come, got to the gate
But quickly did I realize
I cannot come to school today!
I'm far too sick—so here
My Dilemma I want to write of love, but I'm afraidMy Dilemma by ~DrumUltimA
The poetry I make will be clichéd.
My words will all have already been said,
Emotions live to me strike you as dead!
I want to write of love, but it would bore.
And just because it's all been said before!
Even if I write with love and spirit,
I'm sure it wont be the first time you hear it.
I want to write of love, but I cannot.
I guess instead I'll let these old words rot
And think up something for you fresh and new—
It's too cliché to just say “I love you.”
Only Four Months to Go The sunlight seeps between the window's blindsOnly Four Months to Go by ~DrumUltimA
It fills the room, it rouses me awake
As gentle as a newborn baby's cry.
But the room it fills is not a room I know.
These sheets are white, the walls are bare, and I
Can't help but feel an emptiness below.
A tube, a bag of water on a pole
Inserted in my arm makes me recall
Our baby shower—“only four months to go.”
The sheets feel strangely damp around my thighs,
My stomach's sore, I think my fever's broke.
I see you talking to a nurse outside.
I squint my eyes, the sun is bright this morning—
It's too bright. Not the sun I'd hoped to see.
It stings my eyes—
I'm part of the 2% of DMC fangirls that's NOT into yaoi! 
Well then if this is true.. X3 I totally love your remixes! I'm part of the 2% of DMC fangirls that's NOT into yaoi!
Sta.sh
