some girls

Some girls want riches and fame

Boys with lots of gold and bling

But to me that money’s only a chain

I don’t want to be your next Mrs. on that long list, okay?

 

Some girls want a man in uniform

They think that dedication will transfer

But I know a guy like that just isn’t the answer

I’m selfish and don’t want him to leave   

I don’t want to be left behind to grieve.

 

Some girls want soft hands and sensitivity

A shoulder to cry on in times of pain   

But I don’t want someone to lie to me

Tell me it’s alright just to keep me sane. 

 

Some girls want abs and traps

They think muscles are all they need

Me, I don’t care where all those sculpted planes lead

I don’t just want a transient body  

So I can brag he once was a hottie.    

 

Some girls want a father for their babies  

Some girls want a man they can be proud of

Who provides for her too

Some girls want a lover

Other girls want a fighter

Who can tell them what to do    

Some girls want all these things

But not me.  

 

I want a man who can appreciate the beauty of simplicity

A man who lacks greed

I want a man who’s dedicated to me 

Who will love me more than some inanimate country   

I want a man who knows when to leave and when to stay

That will call me out on all the shit I say

I want a man with true beauty

His good heart is much more important to me.

 

I just want someone to laugh with

Cry with 

Fight with   

Love with

And die with.

 

Girl, this is why you’re still single  

My friends always say 

I can’t help but admit that it’s true

I’m an idealist and a romantic to boot 

But my reply is always the same:

 

I’m not some girls and I want to be happy, okay?  

I may have impossible dreams 

But I would rather stay a dreamer 

Than give myself away

 

I would rather sleep a thousand years

Than wake up one day

And realize I’ve been married to a stranger 

Who doesn’t love me

 

Married to a stereotype 

Without seeing the man underneath

To me this is a much more dangerous fantasy.

So if I die all alone

A moldy old spinster 

in an echoey home

Then the dream of a good man  

to the grave

will accompany me.

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community

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