On mornings like this,/
my wish is for you to greet/
the dawn in my arms.

I am fun!
In more ways than one!
Or something.
Although on a night like tonight
it would be alright,
to get out of the wind;
invite me in,
and we’d play
the night away,
until the snow cleared
the following day.

I am DANG creative.
It’s how I live.
Try to keep up with me
and then you’ll see
how fun it can be
to be
with me.

Friends? I didn’t see/
it that way./
U looked at me/
and blew me away./

With jelly 4 knees,/
and a flame in my heart,/
I yearned 4 more,/
but knew not where 2 start!

I hadn’t gotten /
the friend speech yet. I guess I/
overlooked that part.

She calls when she needs/
professional expertise./
Why do I feel used?

I could be, you know,
her Cyrano,
(albeit, I suppose,
without the pronounced nose.)

I mean, I do have one,
(most breathing men do),
but the nom de plume’s for fun,
not some large thing I often blew.

For a true poet, instead,
may pose as Cyrano to discuss
the improv poetry in his head;
NOT his proboscis!

I hope she’ll consider if she’d soon deign to meet,
where I will woo her with words witty and sweet.

What? She sent no response?
I am such a dunce
To write what I shared;
To think that she cared.
A lesson should be learned once.

“U r 2 controlling”, she’d say./
“U always get your own way.”/
So when she said: “Someone new/
would b much better 4u”,/
I agreeingly said “OK”!

Maybe someday, he/
thinks, he’ll find someone who thinks /
he’s worth the effort.

I put her in a coma;/
turned her in2 goo./
With just a tiny poke!/
What will longer do?/

With more time 4 romance,/
2 say how I felt./
Should I chance/
she may melt?