How interesting.
Your flattery tastes like lies.
All I hear is:
you want in between my thighs.
We all wear our shame and guilt
like Joseph’s cloak.
Yet, we put up our fronts,
pretending we’re different folk.
So, don’t tell me
what you’ll do or who you’ll be.
I have two eyes,
and I can sharply see.
I am not interested
in what you have to say.
It’s only best for you
to put your flattery away.
If you can’t,
well, c’est la vie.
Go ahead, my darling,
and please forget about me.
Flattery
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Another plus of growing old – that which lies between your eyes becomes so much more interesting. But I’ll die a man, and if you flash a peek of skin, I’ll look, although now, more with memories and admiration than passion!
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😀 How’s that for flattery 😀 !
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I wish more men my age had the same thought process! 🙂
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Deah Caldwell Poetry 
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