The Perfect Lover

I guess the coldness implied by my calculated position in life must be
disturbing to some people and maybe the lack of romantic pretense used to
disguise or excuse my behavior is not normal, but it is honest, more honest
than most people can deal with, but still it doesn’t make me immune to romance
I am human, and I do have my fantasies, fantasies that I normally repress,
what good are they, after all, but I can’t deny them
I listen to my lover sigh as she entwines me
I listen to my lover cry because she blinds me
I listen to my lover laugh as she defines me
With every breath I wait for her to find me
Usually because I’m a man, I guess, these fantasies gravitate towards a female
form and occasionally I do allow them to run free, dancing in slow motion
through the flower fields of my imagination
I know it sounds silly, especially coming from someone with such a cunning and
cutthroat attitude towards life, but sometimes I feel like nothing would make
me happier than holding hands with a beautiful woman on the beach,
watching the sun slowly descending into the pinks and purples of a perfect
sunset, disgusting isn’t it?