Pouty lips and glaze o’r eyes
Funky braided hair and 1920’s style.
Little teenage miser in a woman’s body.
You would want her.
I know you would.
That ruby red of her lipstick
Would make your mouth water.
But she won’t make you happy.
I know that well enough now
What you look for in a woman
Is not what you’re looking for in life.
No, you’re looking for an oak tree.
Something deep and strong.
Something that even when you hate them
You’ll kneel down with them at night
Because you love them so.
No, pouty lips over there is nothing but poppies.
She might satisfy you for a while
But you’ll just come back hungrier.