Interestingly enough,
I'm not a one, for all this stuff,
Opening soul and venting spleen,
Is not a thing of which I'm keen,
Bodice ripping fantasies,
Romance novels, what are these?
Damaged minds make restless sleep,
Moody buggers digging deep,
Me myself I like to joke,
Too little woman, much more bloke,
A tender smokescreen, lightly veiled,
My inner feelings not revealed,
Yet every so often, I stop and start,
When's words alone, tug at my heart,
There's gifted people, (not like me),
Quietly creating poetry