You’re no Sigmund Freud
as much as you’re no Fred Astaire,
I do declare.
Your dancing skills are more like
Pinocchio on fire,
car dealership wind noodles,
or Napoleon Dynamite.
Your powers of interpretation
are even worse-
it’s not because of my childhood,
nor have I been abused,
I’m not scared of judgment,
nor afraid to be attracted to you.
It’s not even because of your dance moves,
though that helps.