Thursday, April 07, 2011


I'm reluctant to let you go.
I wonder where I will find my warmth at night.
I'll miss your extra-large t-shirts
and the pungent, smell of your deodorant.
I'll miss the way your lips look when you say "smoke"
and the way your love handles fit my hands.
I'll miss the way you pick your teeth after a big meal with your credit card,
scratch your balls in public,
and clip your toenails in bed.
Oh yes, and your foul smelling feet.
I'll probably miss those most of all, my love.
But I won't miss the way you play with my hair.
Or those sweet, salty, morning kisses.
I won't miss your hand on the small of my back,
or on the curve of my neck,
or resting in the palm of my hand.
I won't miss the way you whisper in my ear
or the way you defend me, and don't worry,
I won't even miss your unconditional love.
No, I won't miss that at all.
Not one little bit.


Dan Kent said...

I love the way you turned this on its head. Excellent poem, just excellent.

And it leaves me scratching my balls and wondering, just what is it that ladies see in men anyway?

Donald said...
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Melinda Owens said...

Very funny, Dan! You're all just so darn endearing...:) I think men remind me of little boys. If women had some of those same habits, well, I'm sure it wouldn't be so endearing. Thanks for the compliment...I'm growing to like this one, too.

emily wierenga said...

i love how you left us all missing it, this indescribable love... tender and true, friend. (i edited your link at imperfect prose; it was originally taking me to a post you'd done in february)... xo

Stafford Ray said...

Then you cry. Right?