Wooden Lips

I don’t want a kiss that’s made of wood,
You used to kiss softly, felt so good,
Now all I have to offer in return,
Is rage, indifference, or a slow burn,
Was it something I did or didn’t do,
Or something I said, or not, to you?
It’s all still there, everything I admired,
Only, you always claim to be too tired,
Or busy, “excuse me,” or I’m working.
So many excuses, there’s always something.

I don’t want a kiss that’s made of wood,
I don’t want your duty, because you should
You used to want me and made me want you
Teasing with promises, dreams that came true
That one New Year’s kiss a few years ago
Was the last really good one I remember, you know?
I want your heart like it was before
When I wasn’t treated like another chore
But all I have left since it’s been so long
Are my fears about everything I’ve done wrong.

Not in front of your parents, not in front of the kids,
Not in front of the TV, not at church, God forbid,
Sometimes I want to ask, who did I marry?
You always act like F-Troop’s Ken Berry.
Why should real love be so discretely hidden?
It’s hidden so well I can’t see it, forbidden.
When you kiss me I think I could get a splinter.
When you don’t, you’re colder than any winter.
Is it that hard for what I want to be understood?
I don’t want a kiss that’s made of wood.

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8 thoughts on “Wooden Lips

  1. THIS. Why can’t Mrs. M just read what you’ve written here and get it through her head how hard you are trying and how much you love her???
    I’d have fainted for even one sentence to be written about loving me.
    All you do is speak of your love for her.

    If your poetry can’t reach her…I fear nothing can. Powerful words, my friend.

    Liked by 2 people

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