Boy, You Are So…

Boy, will you ever be

A strange mass of curiosity

Why is there no certainty?

When will you commit to me?

 

My lips are sealed

My words concealed

My heart yearns

My heart breaks

 

Do I wait for the time

‘Til you’re finally mine?

Do I have a reward?

Man, this is so hard.

 

I can’t say anything

‘cause I have self-respect left

Lest you care less…

Perhaps some redress?

 

Do you know what you want?

I’m still here, you know

Your ever loyal confidant

Make up your mind, beau

 

You know this can’t go on

this has to end

I’m not your pawn

this time I won’t bend

 

1, 2, 3… and counting

Impatience ascending

Drop it like it’s hot!

Will you or will you not?

 

Fine, I’ll let you be

Don’t come crawling after me

Once I flee

We can never be.

 

 

Photo: Ikowh Babayev

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Minding Bridget Jones

“Completely exhausted by entire day of date – preparation. Being a woman is worse than being a farmer – there is so much harvesting and crop spraying to be done, legs to be waxed, underarms shaved, eyebrows plucked, feet pumiced, skin exfoliated and moisturized, spots cleansed, roots dyed, eyelashes tinted, nails filed, cellulite massaged, stomach muscles exercised. The whole performance is so highly tuned you only need to neglect it for a few days for the whole thing to go to seed. Sometimes I wonder what I would be like if left to revert to nature – with a full beard and handlebar moustache on each skin, Dennis Healey eyebrows, face a graveyard of dead skin cells, spots erupting, long curly fingernails like Struwelpeter, blind as bat and stupid runt of species as no contact lenses, flabby body flobbering around. Ugh, ugh. Is it any wonder girls have no confidence? Read more

A Clandestine Affair

I can’t quit you, poem

Even if prose calls me

You bear more than the other

To me, a better lover.

You reflect my heart perfectly

Showcasing my ability

Through you I can be honest

Showing me at my finest.

I wish people were like you

Sometimes they just don’t have a clue

They just don’t get my cue

Hence, leaving me so blue.

Poem, you are to me

A strange weave of curiosity

will you remain to be

A clandestine affair to me?

clandestine affair

                                           ♦ ♦ ♦


 

Bad Coffee

I fixed him coffee – hot and aromatic – just the way he likes it. I seriously hope that he will like it because last time, I screwed up on the coffee – creamer ratio. If such happens, he doesn’t drink the whole cup; sometimes, he just doesn’t drink it at all even after inhaling a lungful of that soothing caffeinated aroma that he is so addicted to. I mean, who turns down coffee just because it isn’t made as creamy or as sweet as preferred? He will only drink it all the way down if I got the ratios right.

That’s my husband – a man who is very particular with his wants and needs. He knows what he prefers and he is specific with all the things he chooses.

Even with me, his wife.

 

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