Staccato Solace

The truth is,

 I'm a hopeless romantic

Even though I have no clue what that means

 I'm cursed to be an eternal optimist

With a sleeve of heart shaped tattoos

Underneath photographic memories and permanent poems.

Flawed and imperfect

 I'm residing in the weirdest place

My advice being sought on the subject I think I know least about

Never making it past the playoffs and all.

 I suppose it's because I listen

Without judgment or ridicule

 I'm a sucker for a good love story

A fiend for a great poem,

And honestly don't mind publicly being affectionate.

What does that have to do with being a man?

 I was raised by a woman

So I think much differently than he would.

Does that make me trill?

Time will tell as I paint my thoughts on a wall inside a room

The introverted Aquarius who loves to love