But do I feel this way?

But do I feel this way?
These passions rubbing up against my sleeve.
I am not a princess (the name deceives).
I am not a damsel in distress awaiting a dream
with my golden locks tumbling down the tower wall.
I am a woman-child sitting in my pj's,
face freshly washed and ready for bed.

But do I feel this way?
These hopes clinging to a ray of possibilities.
My savior opens up his abyss for my elite eyes
to feast upon the untold riches of his heart.
I am not as good at math as I presumed
and my fingernails are short and unkempt.
I love my cat-I love to be alone. I have heartburn.

But do I feel this way?
But do I sit idly for my real world to begin?
The one with a two car garage
and little league in summer afternoons.
You are just a guy with bad taste in shoes,
good taste in music, and not enough sense
to call me on the telephone.
You are just a guy.

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