Kiss Me

So, you think you’re not tall enough.  Neither am I.

And you imagine you’re not ripped, like a body builder. 

That’s okay, I’m not stacked like Dolly.

You say your hair is thin, you’re getting wrinkles and you snore…

Me too, but don’t tell anyone.

You have a morbid fascination with death that translates to poetry, sing off key in the shower and had an imaginary friend when you were six.  You cheated on your girlfriend when you were 20 and your first wife left you because you were “emotionally vacant”, and as you tell me this, presumably to warn me away, I can see the love you still have for her.

You smoked pot once when you were a freshman, went to church every Sunday until you graduated college and learned that God was something else.  You believe the world is worth saving, and that people are generally good.  You collect antique keys, implying heavily that some time you’d like to show me a few of the more interesting finds.

Then as though you’ve done something wrong in attracting my curiosity you quickly inform me you smoke, drink, swear and have difficulty committing in a relationship.

Me too, all of the above.

So stop telling me why I shouldn’t find you attractive.  Stop trying to save me from making up my own mind –

Just shut the fuck up and kiss me.