The Infection Of Affection

December 17, 2008
By Gabrielle Lang, Gouldsboro, PA

I'm a new kind of weapon. I yield a new type of fatal.

Drop, dead, gorgeous. I'd beware, because I've begun a new species of lethal.

My first beau has taught me well, but those chic grades will cost,

For every time I see an attractive boy all anticipation is lost.

Single, taken, or looking I'll still smile and tempt.

He's passed his curse to me, only spreading my contempt.

A curse could it be that he held? Things elucidate,

He assisted me in perfecting fishing: hook, line, and bait.

Of course, how could I have overlooked it? To me, he's allot his sickness.

A disease of a flawless flirt's game of love, we'll always prevail and nothing less.

Transmitted on to the prude he'd fallen in love with,

The one that got away. Girls surrounding are positive that I am a merely a myth.

Swindled into a immaculate bundle is the experience of wins collected.

Like a hereditary trait, I am infected.

The author's comments:
Once upon a time, I met a boy. As the prude that I am, I will always credit him with teaching me his fail free method of flirting. He moved before we could ever date. Recently I came up with the abstract theory that he'd passed his ways to me, because ever since I broke his chain I have become a master of the art and he's been failing miserably. This poem was a way of explaining it, open for your own interpretation. Hi, My name is Gabby and I am a flirtaholic. I am a prude that is a great flirt, I am lethal.

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