Splinter Soup

Splinter Soup

We sit in the park on this old rickety bench,
And you say how much our friendship has meant.
That on all levels except marriage we do connect.
I smile sweetly and bat my eyelids in agreement.
Though there are a couple of things I forgot to say…
I don’t really want to meet your mum and dad on Xmas day,
Or hold your hand while you’re sick down yourself again.
I am not up for arguments about how much money we spent in Safeway.
There is no need in me to make your dinner at 7pm every day.
Please don’t leave your mates for my sake or me vice versa.
Me washing your socks and under cracks I cannot think of anything worser.
Taken on your drunken arguments and advances are my ideas of torture.
Watching you get horny over Nigella on the telly will never leave me in wonder.
But actually these are the trinkets of wisdom that I need to express.
I just want to sit in your bedroom and watch you get undressed.
Lets forget the ‘just good friends’ and lick me from the top of the spine to my neck.
The urges in me to corrupt your body are becoming more and more ruthless.
That the idea of touching your imperfect skin drives my erotic dreams to a car crash excess.

The entire tasty tableau’s that play out in my late night fantasies I will confine.
To the bottom of the pond in this beauty spot and to the back of my mind.
So the confusing thoughts of your body in me or near me I will untwine.
Yes let’s leave the trappings of a relationship to other people in another time.

So what I really want to say on this perfect chocolate box day.
Is give me splinters of this wooden seat, because you keep kissing me again and again.
Allow the conversation to wait while you let your man anxieties drift away.
Let’s not care what the other park dwellers and dog walkers might say.
As we find a different adult ground in which to swing and play.