My wanna-be lover's knocking at my door
He won't let me be; I already told him no.
But very dogged is he, just won't leave the floor.
He wants me for keeps...keeps telling me so.
Hmm, funny fella this wanna-be of mine.
Brings me love tokens as often as he can.
I get bouquets of flowers almost all the time,
Sweet man that he is; the perfect gentleman.
But come see my room; its almost a florist's shop.
A bouquet today, two more day after tomorrow.
If I had my way, this flower-thing would stop,
One time I dropped the hint and his face was a mask of sorrow.
But today, I'll tell him how it really is...
'Young man, I may try, but I no fit chop ya flowers!'
'Never heard of a nice romantic dinner?', I hiss.
'Oh, but I have', says he, 'only thought you'd love my flowers...'
Threw him out and his bouquets 'sharp-sharp'.
Me, I no get time for flower-giving bums.
And I hear him go as his shoes go 'tap-tap'...
No doubt he's sad, but flowers? hey...no more!!
But those darn flowers are still at my door...
Looking so forlorn as they lie at the thresh-hold.
I could take them in, just this once more.
But I'd rather not...when they aren't made of gold!!
Love is just a word
it knows not the feel of a gentle hand
cannot capture the emotion of an aching heart
love is just one word
one word that cannot possible describe
the fever that burns
when lovers embrace
the pure euphoria of skin against skin
the quivering anticipation
of soft lips meeting
four letters
feebly trying to express
the joy,
the sadness,
the weakness,
the strength,
the forever
that I feel
yet this word ,
that can never say everything that I need it to
is all I have to give to you
