Do you want the truth?
I ideally I would want
A taller than me
By much
Blonde haired
Blue Eyed Boy
With no dark secrets
Or spare tickets
To the club
But what I keep getting
Is a dark haired
Dark eyed
Know it all
who drinks
till hes drunk
Smokes
till hes gone
And bleeds on the outside
Looking in
Listlessly
and amourously
For the first month.
And a quarter of the
Half.
Then he turns
Rambles softly
Moving On.
Oh What
a sweet tragedy
love.
And oh how stupid
we are
for
wanting
it.