Romance, it is not
A subject for which I write
These days
And yet I might
Spend time
Musing once more
Feeling so fine
Pretending you adore
Something I am
When something I am not
Is what you really need...

(And now I say to you that romance is not in my heart these days, because I have had
To make room for it in my dreams, you never should fall for me, because I am only
A poor excuse for Romeo: My words can only melt your heart, not make it mine.)

Love, it is
So elusive still
I say
I've had my fill
You look my way
I'd be a hero
Come what may
All that I am
Is Cyrano de Bergerac
And you, my love
Might well be Roxanne.