With a Hollywood swagger he carried
himself straight into my life.
Chance glances led to silly online chats,
led to his dream, to his arms,
and before I could even take a breath
I was falling, hopelessly
With a Hollywood swagger he talked
those sweet little endearments
and endless speeches of passions of his
and I swallowed all of them;
listening, debating, enabling – man,
I was falling, happily.
With a Hollywood swagger he swayed
right into his old habits.
Only texting and calling when he was
drunk, drinking, or hungover.
And yet when I saw that smile, that bright smile,
I was falling, helplessly.
With a Hollywood swagger he moved
like an actor in a Greek play,
with his looks and brain. I sadly wonder:
is this our Tragedy?
If the stars'd just aligned in our favour,
I could stop falling.