I wish I was a redhead.
But, only for you that is.
I would be a redhead for you.
I think you'd like that.
It must be that other girl from the book you just read.
The one with flames dancing on her head.
She's liquid passion and quick witted.
She wears her intellect like a crown,
crafted from the beauty of her talent.
Oh, how precious of you to compare me to such a masterpiece.
I may never have her skill or her sharp mind.
But you see it in me somehow and you say,
"You're a redhead; or maybe I see what I want."
Hm, what could it possibly be like to be what you want?
I could be a redhead.
I won't be.
You'll still see me in her.
I will still see you in him.
So I suppose we'll familiarize ourselves with each other
in the creases of pages and folding of spines.
But, darling if you were mine...
You'd read and say,
"She should have golden locks,
Just like you."
Goodbyes should be sweet between you and I.
I'll never be gone from your midst.
The memory of me will simply live on a shelf.
As for me...
I'm still not a redhead.