The Wrong Kind of Men

 I’ve started to look at them again
Cynical, handsome drunken men
Trilbies perched poetically upon their troubled heads
Broken tired hearts made of lead
I’ve started to notice them again
Impossible, smirking lonely men
A stare that cuts in like a knife
A way with words, but not with life
Holding court with glorious disdain
I can spot them straight away
Sniff them out some might say
Dishing up their barstool repartee
Educated, wounded, chic,
Charmingly incomplete
He can be the other half of me
I’ve started to think of them again
Intruigingly miserable men
So very articulate,
Interestingly difficult
Worldly eyes literate, and red
Oh my God I’ve spotted one again
Dashing dapper talented and vain
Lining up another pint,
Settling in for the night
He needs me to take away his pain...
We can fall together He and Me
And bleed each other of our sanity
He will give me loads of stress
We will make a right old mess
Bring it on the sweet catastrophe…..

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