Musings by The Poet Loriet
Surf And Turf
Don't ask me how I want my steak done
or memorize my favorite drinks.
When you call me doll or sweet baby,
don't expect me to melt
and feel all mushy and
confused inside.
Please don't rub my shoulders
as I stand exhausted at your
kitchen counter, trying not to
melt into your tender hands.
Don't offer your broad shoulders
to my weary head and
stroke my hair so sweetly.
I want to be independent.
I don't want to care.
I don't want to hope.
Hope only leads to broken dreams
and that theme has been
too well-done in my life.
By the way, I like my steaks medium,
but don't make me fall in love with you.
Leave me alone.
Wait~
Will you hold me?
Lori Beal
or memorize my favorite drinks.
When you call me doll or sweet baby,
don't expect me to melt
and feel all mushy and
confused inside.
Please don't rub my shoulders
as I stand exhausted at your
kitchen counter, trying not to
melt into your tender hands.
Don't offer your broad shoulders
to my weary head and
stroke my hair so sweetly.
I want to be independent.
I don't want to care.
I don't want to hope.
Hope only leads to broken dreams
and that theme has been
too well-done in my life.
By the way, I like my steaks medium,
but don't make me fall in love with you.
Leave me alone.
Wait~
Will you hold me?
Lori Beal
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Surf And Turf
Surf And Turf
