My use of alliteration both amuses and disgusts me. I do hope you appreciate my use of the english language, because I sacrifice my literary soul to make this post sound interesting. Onward, some ravishing rooms:
It was Kernel Mustard, in the bedroom, with the headboard.
Or was he in the sitting room?
Not so boring beiges. (I am putty in alliteration's alluring arms.)
I can literally smell roses when I look at this. Synesthesia inducing style.
Mail's for you.
Waiting for Santa, with a prayer for snow.
Cuckoo clocks and bean bags. I also sometimes don't mind cats.
Ready for my dirty naked body.
The moulding, the arch, the windows; hate the foot rest.
The Adam's Family House after the reno.
My picturesque street corner, no hookers or stop signs allowed.
Just because you're sleeping on a couch doesn't mean you can't dream of chandeliers.
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