I thought that tenderness might be,
perhaps, an attractive quality,
that women would be pleased to find
a man whose heart is well-inclined,
who’d whisper bastions through her tears
and listen them clean off her face,
but as the lonely years rack up,
I see that this is not the case.
I thought that loyalty might be,
perhaps, an attractive quality,
that women would be pleased to find
a man who’s parallel aligned,
who’d understand, defending her,
the one and only of the race
but as the lonely years rack up,
I see that this is not the case.
I thought that openness might be,
perhaps, an attractive quality,
that women would be pleased to find
a man who’s free and unconfined
by social chains and who can share
the contents of his inner space
but as the lonely years rack up,
I see that this is not the case.
I thought reflectiveness might be,
perhaps, an attractive quality,
that women would be pleased to find
a man engaged with his own mind,
who thinks and questions all the time,
to bring him to a better place,
but as the lonely years rack up,
I see that this is not the case.
It seems stability might be
the most attractive quality,
material wealth, a fixed idea
of some prestige-bedecked career
that anchors both your stature-loving
stilettos to a sturdy base
like that’s all life is for. You’ve nothing
to offer me if that’s the case.
