He was the kind of guy that would say,
my pleasure,
and from that point forward
add interest.
He was the kind of guy that held resentment
tenderly in his palm
while revealing a warm smile.
A gentleman does not tell
who he calls Beautiful
all the time
He was a kind and gentle man it would seem
to many
too many women.
He was the kind of guy that liked to drive
and scare his passengers.
He was the go to guy,
the kind that goes to extremes.
You know the kind of passionate man
who projects his desires outward,
the type that wants women
to reflect this same desire,
his wants and those wanting him-only
at his fingertips...
On his lips
lies more than truth.
The kind of guy who mouths one thing
but means two,
who denies what he does not remember,
repeats what he hears,
who walks with an air
he thinks doubles as a smoke screen.
He is the breed of human who has been;
in love
dishonest
rebellious
covetous
oblivious
to having lost all trust
when he wasn't looking
and subsequently stopped earning interest.
Day after day, a toll is taken, and then again
I hear him say, I have to go
and yet I stay,
waiting in kind for a different guy.
Portrait by Vincent Rodes c. 1820, located in Museu Nacional d'Art de Catalunya [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
