by 
“You”
I really can’t explain it,
The way I feel about you.
The way you act,
The way you talk,
Good grief, the way you walk!
Some people hate you.
Some people love you.
But me?
I’m on the fence.
Sometimes I could strangle you.
Sometimes I could hug you.
Other times I could care less…
You make me ill is what it comes down to.
Sick in the stomach,
Sick in the head,
Or sick in the heart.
You make me downright uncomfortable.
But then again, so does my mother.
Quite frankly, I hate you.
Hate you for making me feel this way.
What happened to the old days?
When boys played with bugs,
And girls played with dolls,
But never, ever together.
Our maturity levels were obviously different.
And we accepted that.
Girls had cooties,
Boys had cooties,
And some boys even had rabies.
But all in all we eventually got along as God intended.
But now?
Cooties has been changed to cuties.
And instead of slapping the kid silly,
When guy calls a girl cute, she blushes.
But with you?
Well I don’t know what to do.
You.
You of all people should know how girls operate,
Being a man of such “relationship experience”.
Yet you still insist upon certain bad habits.
Such as yelling “make me a sandwich” to any skirted individual,
And over all humiliating the male race.
But then again,
You have your moments.
I guess at the end of the day, you’re not all bad.
But don’t get cocky.
I said not all bad.
You drive me nuts, yes.
You make me feel sappy, yes.
And you brighten my day on rare occasions.
Am I ready to say I’m yours every day?
Probably not.
But you know what?
We’ve got plenty of time.
For now I’m good with things the way they are.
Just being your retirement home nurse…
But only on Tuesdays, big shot.
