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a poem about something I've been thinking a lot about recently

I’ve been thinking about how, my boobs look nothing like one another,

Not sisters nor twins but more like a child and it’s mother.

I’ll save you the back story and not get into the nitty gritty,

But also I’m part of the itty bitty tittie committee

My nipples are not pink enough, in fact they look quite scary

The right one is sort of purple and is actually kind of hairy.

To hide my shame, I wear turtlenecks in ninety degrees.

I say that “I’m cultured” but I’m just hiding my lack of double D’s.

I often stare in the mirror and pick them apart,

Pull them up to my chin and hope to god I look like a tart.

I’ve pushed them, and I’ve pulled them, and bought Wonder Bras

Even then, there is a severe lack of tautness in my areolas.

Due to the fact neither of them look the same,

They have been getting in the way of my dating game.

Bringing someone home, hoping for a surprise and delight,

I wasn’t expecting “I’m sorry but can we turn off the light”

Especially when I make love in front of the mirror.

All I can think is “Christ on a bike, why do they want to be here?”

I dream of having two perfect round boobies

Hardened and ripened and mounted with rubies

But the reality is, no matter what I do

My left nipple always looks like it's winking at you

Chesticals, Breasticals, Mommy Milkers, oh my!

Maybe my expectations for my looks are just a little too high

If you squint in the dark they really aren’t that bad,

In fact some guys say they are the best they have ever had.

Come to think of it, now, more than a mouthful is quite greedy

I don’t want to be with a freak who comes across skeevy

I also never have to wear a bra or have any back pain,

I guess in some ways my loss is also my gain.

Strapped in, pulled together, low cut, I've tried all I can

I guess the only solution is to find an ass man