Mad About the Boy

Mad about the boy,
I know it’s stupid
To be mad about the boy.
I’m so ashamed of it
But must admit
The sleepless nights
I’ve had about the boy.
On the silver screen
He melts my foolish heart
In every single scene.
Although I’m quite aware
That here and there
Are traces of that cared about the boy.
Lord knows I’m not a fool girl,
I really shouldn’t care.
Lord knows I’m not a schoolgirl
In the flurry of her first affair.
Will it ever cloy
This odd diversity of misery and joy
I’m feeling quite insane
And young again
And all because
I’m mad about the boy.