What Men Secretly Wishes
Here is something which i would like to share. personally, i think its rather cool. haha (:
What Men Secretly Wishes by Patrick Vierra
I know you wish I were a better man.
And you hope I'd change over time.
Well, you're not too perfect yourself, my dear
so let me tell you with this rhyme.
I know when you are playing me,
and that's something I just hate.
With your baby face and pouting lips,
you sure know how to manipulate.
You push your way through a crowded mall, as if you're a scorpion with a stinger.
Yet so many times when we're at home,
to help me you won't even lift a finger.
For dinner, you fuss over centerpieces and cutlery,
and that the maid shouldn't overcook the roast.
But for me all I really care about, hon,
is that you don't burn my kaya toast.
You demand to be prettier than yesterday,
when to me, your beauty's number one.
I love you as you are anyway,
so why pile on that makeup that weighs a ton?
Your high heels tell me that you're short,
while ballet flats tell me you are true.
So what's with double eyelids and false lashes,
do they make the world look perfect to you?
Your artsy pals, they are gay and unique,
but don't get upset if I steep clear.
I'd rather hang out with manly men,
than air-kiss your friends who are queer.
I'm the 'break glass in case of emergency' man,
cause you know i'll always be there.
But when I needed you, where are you?
Now, babe, is that really fair?
The expensive lingerie you buy at La Perla,
makes me howl because you look so sexy.
But don't you know you look piping hot,
in nothing more than my Man-U jersey?
Above everything else, for all that I've written,
you know I love you with all my might.
And if this poem doesn't change your mind,
go read Men Are From Mars tonight!
What do you think? I think its very interesting. lol.
What Men Secretly Wishes by Patrick Vierra
I know you wish I were a better man.
And you hope I'd change over time.
Well, you're not too perfect yourself, my dear
so let me tell you with this rhyme.
I know when you are playing me,
and that's something I just hate.
With your baby face and pouting lips,
you sure know how to manipulate.
You push your way through a crowded mall, as if you're a scorpion with a stinger.
Yet so many times when we're at home,
to help me you won't even lift a finger.
For dinner, you fuss over centerpieces and cutlery,
and that the maid shouldn't overcook the roast.
But for me all I really care about, hon,
is that you don't burn my kaya toast.
You demand to be prettier than yesterday,
when to me, your beauty's number one.
I love you as you are anyway,
so why pile on that makeup that weighs a ton?
Your high heels tell me that you're short,
while ballet flats tell me you are true.
So what's with double eyelids and false lashes,
do they make the world look perfect to you?
Your artsy pals, they are gay and unique,
but don't get upset if I steep clear.
I'd rather hang out with manly men,
than air-kiss your friends who are queer.
I'm the 'break glass in case of emergency' man,
cause you know i'll always be there.
But when I needed you, where are you?
Now, babe, is that really fair?
The expensive lingerie you buy at La Perla,
makes me howl because you look so sexy.
But don't you know you look piping hot,
in nothing more than my Man-U jersey?
Above everything else, for all that I've written,
you know I love you with all my might.
And if this poem doesn't change your mind,
go read Men Are From Mars tonight!
What do you think? I think its very interesting. lol.