I yearn for a love who writes poems sends letters and plays a casual song on the guitar,
while in time beats the rhythms of the music of my affectionate and yearning heart.

I'd be fond of a man who is willing to talk about anything trivial or convoluted with expression,
And go on for hours learning each other's views of the world and be interesting enough to pay attention.

But isn't it awful, how I sell myself short seeing several different men every week?
Making something that is not love in the back of ****** old movie theatres, when truly I'm more interested with what's on the screen.

Have I become the ***** that the poets scorn?
The heartless girl, who leads on far to many a man?
No darling, I promise I'm just lost between wanting love and being numb.
And quite frankly, I think the poets would understand.