love confessions, with a scowl

-
inspired by Maya Angelou's "Come, And Be My Baby"

what to do
with hands so full of time?
holding a pen, writing, scribbling,
still leaves the other so full.
longing is a thing, 
but yearning,
a life.

how to respond to love
other than sarcastic jabs?
you who desires
so much of me
i, waiting,
for the eventual 
dissipation.

how to tell a non-reader
in softer ways
that leaves the heart wanting more?
that i, woman,
might succumb
to these brave attempts 
at sweet and tender. 

perhaps,
when the skin gets thicker
and you can bear the jabs better.
wait, 
a while,
for my speech to grow 
from bitter to feather.

why do i
dance around
only to regret when the music
stops.
will you have me
if i come around, 
stop the chasing,
if i come around,
without the nerves,
and ask you to be my baby?

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