I was simply here to be a spender,
and you were only meant to be a drink sender,
to lavish me with a latte laced in lavender,
not to corrupt me with Cupid’s cinder-emender.
Yet you crashed into me in this little social fender-bender,
and reached in the wreckage with arm extenders
to tangle me in my own web like some spider suspender;
focus drained out like water in a cullender,
and into me you climbed as a heart descender.
It really didn’t take much for me to now surrender,
I mean I wasn’t trained to be an attention defender.
Ugh! I cannot even be my own comprehender
let alone forefender and self thought-reprehender,
because in the same way you swirl drinks my dear befriender,
you’ve thrown my head into a blender
and twisted each and every avenue you traversed, you wender!
And now I have to be a pretender,
act as though you aren’t the contender,
with hands so tender
this drink so slender
my drowsiness meeting its mender -
you’re just too much of a visual offender,
and you’ve rendered me to need a distraction lender.
AH, the audacity to add yourself to my calendar,
adjust my thinking-schedule like some amender
when I am the one who has to be the time expender.
I don’t want a mental apprehender,
I don’t want to be a depender;
I wish I could say you’re only a warm drinks and smiles vender,
a friendly bartender,
a trusted recommender -
not some devestating portender.
Alas, you are my up-ender,
and regardless of whether denial or acceptance is my superintender,
I’ll keep coming back for that transcender-lavender.