Don't lose weight
When you're poor,

You'll need a new belt
You can't afford.

A man in love is hardly a man these days.

We're supposed to play in sports, fight in wars,
cover ourselves in tattoos and bedsores.
Say "yes, sir" to the more stoic man,
find things to **** and never hold hands.

We are the knives at the table, not the big spoon.
Why are you still in her bed? Don't you dare say "I love you."

But what if I say no?
What if I want a hand to hold?
What if I have a better cause to call my own
and this light-beer ******* is getting old?

I won't buy what your selling.  I found a better deal.

It's in the way I shake instead of sleep at night;
it's the way I feel when I look into her eyes;
when I hold the door open to catch a smile,
and maybe I want her to stick around a while.

You think you know America? You think you know men?
Well I think you should take your guns and put them to your head.
A real man is one who loves without regret.
So I am a man, not your ******* pet.

Her lips
bring me to my knees.
Light me up like kerosene.
And if mine were to meet them again,
I’d pull her in close and remove all doubt
that I can bring her to her knees just as well.

I love every part of her,
from the hottest crevasse to the coldest shoulder,
and if it were to turn my way again,
I’d pull her in close and remove all doubt
that my shoulders were made for her arms to rest on.

Her laughter is a music
that whisks me away to far off worlds,
and if a fool’s incantation will make it sound,
I’d pull her in close and remove all doubt
that I am a fool for her and always will be.

because when I'm with her I can do anything and when she's gone I'm pretty much useless.

She's like *******

because she's even better with a little ****.

She's like *******

because well, she's white. (But that *** is pure Colombian)

She's like *******

because even her scent is enough to make me succeed at all business.

She's like *******

because I've only hit it a few times but play like I'm an expert on it.

She's like *******

because anyone with a Scarface poster in their bedroom has probably not actually had HER in it.

She's like *******

because her head game could make my nose bleed if I'm not careful.

She's like *******

because I haven't slept right since I've been without her.

She's like *******

because I'd give
every dollar I have
for another taste.

I gaze at you,
ceaselessly,
in anticipation of words,
but these vacuous conversations are only ones that seem to come.

These salutations and customs- are all too familiar,
a forewarning to hail this semblance,
a bellow to put on my armour of camaraderie,
a display of grandeur,
as I wallow in cursory nods.

all this while, I still await those words,
ones that promise to slit the soul,

for it keeps on cluttering with ghosts of past flaws,
a past I wish that never was.