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…..