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.