PLEASE TOUCH ME I AM CRACKED AND I NEED MENDING YOUR HANDS ARE THE SUPERGLUE I NEED AND YOUR WORDS ARE THE STITCHES

As you gazed across the room,
My eyes caught your lingering stare,
To a woman who was not me,
Both not seeing, unaware.

Like a giddy school boy, I watched,
As she asked about your day,
Standing in disbelief,
Sensing this was wrong in every way.

My stomach hit the floor that day,
Followed closely by my heart,
Sadly not realizing,
This was only just the start.

Never enough, too much,
Imperfect in every way,
Wanting to run, scream, hide,
Like a coward, I choose only to stay.

Birthdays uncelebrated,
No tinsel on the tree,
This union isn't working,
The fault is always me.

Lousy cook, deplorable housekeeper,
No tiger in bed,
Tears stream down my face,
From words uttered & ones left unsaid.

Listen up 'gentle' men,
This shouldn't come as a surprise,
The true beauty of a woman,
Does not in fact lie between her thighs.

Love her laugh, her heart,
her smile,
Value these things,
& she may just stay awhile.

Don't win her over with baubles & bling,
court her with fancy dinners,
These mean nothing.

Write her a poem,
Leave her a letter,
These are the honey, gold, & nectar.

Moments shared, hands held,
A warm hug, a gentle touch,
These are the things of true value,
These are the things we all want so much.

Forgive me if my honesty
Isn't quite on trend,
But truth be told, what this world need more of,
Isn't lovers,
But ride or die friends.

By A Foreigner

I like Canadians.
They are so unlike Americans.
They go home at night.
Their cigarettes don't smell bad.
Their hats fit.
They really believe that they won the war.
They don't believe in Literature.
They think Art has been exaggerated.
But they are wonderful on ice skates.
A few of them are very rich.
But when they are rich they buy more horses
Than motor cars.
Chicago calls Toronto a puritan town.
But both boxing and horse-racing are illegal
In Chicago.
Nobody works on Sunday.
Nobody.
That doesn't make me mad.
There is only one Woodbine.
But were you ever at Blue Bonnets?
If you **** somebody with a motor car in Ontario
You are liable to go to jail.
So it isn't done.
There have been over 500 people killed by motor cars
In Chicago
So far this year.
It is hard to get rich in Canada.
But it is easy to make money.
There are too many tea rooms.
But, then, there are no cabarets.
If you tip a waiter a quarter
He says "Thank you."
Instead of calling the bouncer.
They let women stand up in the street cars.
Even if they are good-looking.
They are all in a hurry to get home to supper
And their radio sets.
They are a fine people.
I like them.

He says to me,

You make it really difficult to talk to you.

All I can respond with is,

*I know.

Let me put my hands in your hair, and feel your mouth on mine.
Let me sigh with pleasure, when we've only just begun.
Let me take off your tie, unbutton your shirt.
Let me lick your skin, ache with so much want I hurt.
Let me slip off my dress, drop it to the floor.
Let me straddle you, craving, needing more.
Let me in your pants, to caress you with hungry delight.
Let me consume you, *******, only the start of the night.
Let me **** on you indulging, after you eat at me.
Let me bend and break at your very touch, all for you to see.
Let me be a toy, play with me, tease and tantalize.
Let me be yours, make me moan, make me scream- let us be vulgarized.

You*
    May
       Say
          It
   And Feel
       It

**But I Don't