Confession

You want me, don’t you, honey?

You say you like my brown skin.

The rest would be too rude to say

I am neither pretty nor thin.

You seem to love me for my hair

You like that it’s thick and strong

You want to run your fingers through

You want me to wear it long.

You say you want me for my smile

Though god knows it’s just a trick;

Any woman worth her name would know

How best to make her camera click.

I, on the other hand, have nothing to say

I can’t wax poetic at all–

For what you lack in handsome and dark

You make up in being too tall.

I don’t think you’ll set a ramp on fire

I don’t find your looks to kill

I don’t know if you’ll turn heads twice

But I find I want you still.

~12 February 2010