Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?
Be right up your street!
Hey, It’s not my idea –
but it is you know, kinda cute.
I’m onto you, little miss Smart Arse,
with your Johansson skin & your ‘Come here’ giggle,
and those perfect eyes all Helloooey & smiley,
that chin so proud & cuppable!
With that face always there, as though you mean it!
I do! I do – though I’m not entirely sure
what I do mean or in fact
what I’ve done to make you act like this?
No? Yeah? ‘Not entirely sure’?
Like you don’t know,
with your niceness and instant wake-up positivity,
your weekend hips
and those, those
undefeatable things, all, just, all…
What, these? Breasts? Mammaries?
Boobs? Tits? Bazonkas? Fresh, wet, puppies?
Ah, I see what you’re doing now!
I see what’s going on!
Distracting me with an ambush grin!
Next you’ll be telling me that
you actually like me being around?
Start employing your feminine gills
Gills! Ills! Wiles! And that girl power thing –
where you make me question if I should defend you
so if you got picked on
you’d do some of your special Kung Fu
and try not to laugh when I end up in casualty!
You want to protect me?
Bless! That’s sooo nice!
But you don’t need to, honestly.
What? What now ? ‘I just’ what?
You waiting for me to confess?
Bare my soul? Tell you something
you prob’ly already know?
Tell you how I can’t live without you?
How my life’s got so much better
since you’ve put the rugs straight and
thrown the blown tins so I don’t get
another dose of food poisoning?
That I hate it when you go away
and when you do a big shop you take so long
I feel like my lungs’ve turned inside out?
That I only stop feeling sick when
I can hear you breathin’?
That I fucking Love You?
Is that it?
That what you wanna hear?
Don’t be daft, honey –
I know that already.
You show me every day.
Well, what are we talking about, then?
I really, really don’t know.