Sunday, March 02, 2008

Dear Mr Spencer

Mr. Spencer,
There's quite a lot I'd like to say to you,
But I'm incapable
without a lime and tonic on my tongue
and a cellphone perched on my chin.
That ensures the safety of your distance.
You might melt me;
I am hell warmed over and you are a frosty day in Miami.
I love you; always have and unfortunately, always will.
Your eyes flood me, drought me, overwhelm me, dry me;
I'm quite secure that no woman could know you
The way that I wish that I didn't.
Fuck me. Fuck me!
Why can't I take to you clearly and honestly without 3 low balls, 2 cigarettes and an “I hate you” in between??
I hate your excruciating honesty. I love its even keel.
I love your simple ways. I hate your simplicity.
I hate that when I love to make love to you, I can't say it, for fear you won't say it back.
Your a motherfucker, Mr. Spencer, but I keep coming back to you.