Dear Lover,
I do not lean towards histrionics.
But do fancy a hyperbole.
And make use of them seven thousand times a day.
I do not like to be in the spotlight.
But do enjoy belting a tune.
And will, despite my eternal blush.
I do not wish to be on stage.
But have always wanted to beat my fists with rage against a man's chest.
And shake my tangled hair and weep.
I do not enjoy the feminine mystique of drama drama drama.
But can curl up with a historical romance novel.
And never tire of those saturated descriptions of love and lust and loss.
I do not enjoy breaking the rules of dichotomy.
But I'm a woman.
And it's my prerogative.
Love,
Me.
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