Your light is but a mere reflection of broken stars,
of whose nuances and rumoured brilliance you act out so well.

You are blind my love,
in all our time you never met me.
All you see are the faerie tales
tattooed on the insides of your eyelids.

When the hype is over you fly to the next
and the next
and the next.
I knew from the day we met you would leave.

Even with all the songs you write,
the writers you quote,
your elegant chatter,
your flare that melts men and women alike-
you are still as shallow as pink bunny's and baked beans.

You are the most lethal kind,
if you were at least a ***** you would be honest,
but your softness and kindness
sets men up
to be dropped like broken toys from a fat spoilt brat.

I really don't know why I'm still so tender towards you.