Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
You’re dressed for the occasion. Sunshine hair
And strappy sandals keep the storms at bay,
And short sleeve tee-shirts leave your soft arms bare.
My love is not based on the seasons’ switch;
Whatever season comes I need you still.
In boots for fall or spring—no matter which,
In sweaters to keep out the winter chill.
I met you on a golden summer morn’
And now it seems that day has come again.
My feelings are the same. My heart is torn
With love for you! My darling, stylish friend.
Rain or shine or snow I’ll never rue
The unrelenting love I have for you.
Oh God, is this the best that he can do?
Yes, poetry was never his strong suit.
(Though nothing else is either, to be true.)
This awful writing makes me want to shoot
So far and fast away from his embrace,
Still more so than I wanted to before.
I cannot claim to have a poet’s grace.
I cannot claim to hate and to abhor
His person in a way that’s eloquent.
I fear that writing won’t fulfill this aim.
I fear my time is really better spent
Deciding how to leave him without shame.
Does anybody know if there’s an artTo breaking a sad sap’s enamored heart?
In honor of Shakespeare's birthday, a little story told in sonnets. Want to see something neat? Here's a blog post about me and my future MFA classmates at UNLV!