With a request to order more

I find it peculiar that I’m the one,

chosen to buy the girl her clothes.

Perhaps My tastes are attractive,

certainly, certain things, catch my eye

and she’d look amazing always.

It is not about the money or buying

we share everything in equal measure.

It could be that I have more time,

obviously more than she does or

she simply prefers my attention to detail.

I swear, I would make the biggest deal

out of something she bought on her own,

so it’s not about being controlling.

Maybe it’s the surprise in not knowing

the next outfit to be revealed.

Come to think of it

I rarely get gifts of my own,

fuck, I’m an enabler.

That’s it, she’s buying her own.

No more romanticizing about purchases,

from now on I will

consider such requests as unfair

and a chore that is useless.

I understand this is not the norm,

this picking out of her clothes,

but honestly, there is this gut feeling

when you find that one blessed item,

heavily marked down next to nothing.

Extreme satisfaction washes over you

we’ve all said it,

“Can you believe how much?”

Maybe one last purchase for the girl,

who expects me to do her shopping.

Throughout this entire poem

I never mentioned the one thing

she asked me to go get and find…

New panties. Mind you,

there is one issue to consider

comfort versus style, am I right?

She’s not a fan of the thong

or the string riding up her bottom,

but her favorites are boy-cut or

bikini-low rise hipster.

On one hand adorable and not

perhaps, she has another plan

always asking me to look.

So one last time I’ll go and shop,

it’s been an hour since she asked

if I wouldn’t mind getting her favorite

Calvin Klein panties

the ones I found in black,

as she lifts her skirt

to show me her hip.

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