Wednesday, October 7, 2009

A Love Tantrum In The Grocery Store Of Her

I stomp my feet, like a child mad he can't have candy because She still doesn't understand me. A book once told Her that I was from Mars, but I disagree because only my thoughts of Her are out of this world. And I don't speak alien, I speak manly. It's a soft and strong dialect with an emotional undertone. A language She still can't comprehend because She's only used to hearing all the BS and True Lies. I want more than behind, I want a mind with behind. I want weekends of sprung spoiling; filled with fruit feeding, face foundling with gentle fingers and sultry slow dancing to Love songs made in the early...late 90's. I'm an only child, not spoiled, but I do want what I want when I want it, but willing to earn it which defeats the stereotype. Is this too much to ask? Too much to ask would be me asking Her to Love me more than She Loves Herself, and I could never suggest that because then that would mean She'd suck at Loving me because She doesn't Love Herself enough. So can I get my treat now? Or what more must I do before I can enjoy that chewy feeling? That sugary rush that keeps my wheels turning with no plans on hitting breaks? I want Her, I want Her, I want Her.

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