© Copyright Miss Carly Marie 2008-2012
mister empty mailbox
dear mister empty mailbox,
what did i ever do to you?
there's a thousand things
to tell my baby
and all are way past due
i want to tell him to be
naked as often as a pearl
it can cure anyone of anything
it can turn an oyster into a girl
i must also remind him to
not let his hands get too rough
easy times come in between
the moments that are tough
eating fruit in the shower
will make him whistle and hum
it may even make him shake
his juicy plum bum
beside me, he was a tower
so maybe you could understand
that i need him just as bad
as you need the mailman
even when the lights were dim
he would stand tall and quiet
we'd crawl at each other's feet
whispering hymns amidst riots
sweat all salty, juices so sweet
i hope he remembers it all
i know men can be forgetful
and a memory can be like a wall
most women try to hold men back
they make sure he's comfy and stuck
fed enough to not have to hunt
they find his flaws and pluck and chuck
but if you understand that a man's heart
is a conquerer and a troubadour
and standing in his way will only
turn him around to face the whores
then maybe you could comprehend
how it feels to melt into the floor
to take your core and bore it until
it is loveless, ugly and sore
another door with another mailbox
waiting just as you do now
you are replaceable and unnameable
as a vow of sweat upon his brow
he has eyes for beautiful things
and you just collect junk
open your lid you fickle thing
and no ship will be sunk
he needs to read my words
and touch paper that i've kissed
walking slowly through each other's minds
in the fogs and in the mists
dear mister empty mailbox,
what did i ever do to you?
there's a thousand things
to tell my baby
and all are way past due
i want to tell him to be
naked as often as a pearl
it can cure anyone of anything
it can turn an oyster into a girl
i must also remind him to
not let his hands get too rough
easy times come in between
the moments that are tough
eating fruit in the shower
will make him whistle and hum
it may even make him shake
his juicy plum bum
beside me, he was a tower
so maybe you could understand
that i need him just as bad
as you need the mailman
even when the lights were dim
he would stand tall and quiet
we'd crawl at each other's feet
whispering hymns amidst riots
sweat all salty, juices so sweet
i hope he remembers it all
i know men can be forgetful
and a memory can be like a wall
most women try to hold men back
they make sure he's comfy and stuck
fed enough to not have to hunt
they find his flaws and pluck and chuck
but if you understand that a man's heart
is a conquerer and a troubadour
and standing in his way will only
turn him around to face the whores
then maybe you could comprehend
how it feels to melt into the floor
to take your core and bore it until
it is loveless, ugly and sore
another door with another mailbox
waiting just as you do now
you are replaceable and unnameable
as a vow of sweat upon his brow
he has eyes for beautiful things
and you just collect junk
open your lid you fickle thing
and no ship will be sunk
he needs to read my words
and touch paper that i've kissed
walking slowly through each other's minds
in the fogs and in the mists
© Copyright Miss Carly Marie 2008-2012
