She was not the sort of miss that flattery could turn.
Excessive admiration just made her stomach churn.
She had no use for sweet talk or raves that were prolific.
Compliments just bored her. Praise she found horrific.
She set out to tell him that his raves were quite absurd
and his fawning words profusive, but could not recall the word,
so she just said nothing as his copious adulation
stirred her to a level of nervous agitation.
She found his fulsome words to be shockingly unstinting
with his gushing adjectives, his adverbs unrelenting.
He said that she was perfect, her end result most lavish,
while she just found his flattery ridiculously slavish.
“Rich, sweet, slightly juicy, and never sour or tough,
with just a little crustiness.” He couldn’t get enough.
So finally she just gave in and with a little sigh,
picked up the knife and cut him—
another piece of pie!
The prompt today was profuse.