If you love me won’t you say something...
Because my heart has a fail safe,
Multiple combinations,
Rotating and interlocking,
Interchanging on so many levels
That...
It’s nearly impossible to
James Bond your way in,
Whether disguised as a “Prince Charming
Or the holiest of holy gentlemen,
It matters not because...
If you love me won’t you say something...
I make no promises of
Quiet nights of ice cream and cookies,
Watching anime and/or syfy all the time,
Or days of blissful memories being the only memories to occur,
But I can promise that,
When my heart is released,
Unlocked and unchained,
Finally able to feel safe in the care of someone worthy,
It has the tendency
To assassinate it’s suitor
With methods of
Truth, honesty and unrelenting optimism...
Emotions loaded and cocked back
Ready to unleash rounds of words like,
“We got this”
“ Don’t be afraid, I’ll catch you if you fall in love”
Or something from the lyrical genius of Natasha Bedingfield
(Sing Chorus of ‘I Bruise Easily’)
So before you try to hide
What’s going on in that
Figurative organ so ideally pictured
As the actual representation of a 6th century method of contraception,
Make sure you understand,
That my love is not like an STI
In which you need protection or to deny,
If you love me won’t you...
I know I might be asking a lot from you,
Someone who hides themselves,
From the sheer fact that his emotions
Are what drives a man to become better,
Better tomorrow then he ever was today
But I digress...
I know I’m not one to really talk,
Seeing as how I sometimes relive my own
Gut wrenching history of
Failed relationships,
Whether friends, fam, foe or lover...
The fear that captures my mind
Locks my heart trump tight
Got me uttering words
from the greatest of legends
The unapologetic Lauren “Miseducated” Hill
“Sacrificed too much and waited in vain”
“Wasted and used”
Do I need to say more...
But wait a minute...
You still haven’t owned up,
To the feelings
That dance
Within the spaces of your cranium...
I can imagine
As you hear this poem
Your stomach drops
As the Iris of your eyes narrow to a pinpoint
As uncomfortable as you may feel
Because of the directness of my directness,
I need you to hear my words,
Permit them the opportunity
To become fertile
Among the hordes of
Syllables that have and are forming
Creating ideas of rationality and philosophy
Deep between your hippocampus and cortex,
Making them permanent,
Like the lyrics of Jagged Edge’s
“Let’s Get Married”
Which became every wedding song for singles with dreams in the 90’s
So dude I mean this when I say
What’s really good,
Cause if you love me won’t you something
