Box of tissues

There’s nothing better than the touch of a man,
to be face down and in need of a tissue.
some want nothing more than to get laid,
while others would just rather be alone,
but doesn’t everyone need someone to hold?
Or perhaps the right hand gives enough love?

Do you remember what it’s like to fall in love?
Whether it was with a woman-man or a man-man?
They were not responsible enough with your heart to hold,
but instead you retreated to the box of tissue.
Watching stars undress in the dark alone,
nearly envious as someone else gets laid,

Walls crumbled down wherever they laid.
the risk it took to fall in love,
forcing yourself to believe it’s best to be alone,
instead of ever again trusting a man.
still wiping tears off with a tissue,
the only thing in your hand left to hold

Is it really worth persevering and grabbing hold
on the edge of your seat where saltwater laid?
not every drop was rescued by a tissue,
assuming that was your last chance at love,
your ex doesn’t resemble every man.
to generalize is to be condemned alone

Or maybe it’s not so bad to be alone!
weather is getting colder with only a blanket to hold.
perhaps braving through the complications of a man
beats pulling stiff pages depicting others getting laid.
is it harder to build and make love,
rather than merely reaching for tissue?

At some point you’re going to run out of tissue,
and you’ll have to buy more if you remain alone.
patience you have little and money cannot buy you love,
bring your wallet to the store for its very light to hold,
poured out your nickels and dimes on the counter they laid,
convincing yourself it’s safer without some man

You’ll be unscathed falling in love with a tissue,
with any man you may still feel alone,
except the one who’ll still hold you even after you get laid