She squeezed, merciless, focused and impatient. I wheezed, spluttered, spattered a bit of myself onto her palm. Repeat a few times over and the effort lay glistening on her palm. Yes, she was finally done and was now lathering it all over herself. Sigh, the life of a tube of cream is anything but creamy.

About rashmenon

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6 Responses to Creamed

  1. Neetika says:

    ha ha… funny. and so true!

  2. rashmenon says:

    @Neetika: :D, inspired by my Nivea this morn which grunted really miserably 😀

  3. solingenpoet says:

    Love the way you have made yourself the jar of cream in this poem. Always wondered what that would feel like!!

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