How does a wise cynic see/
receipt of romantic poetry?/
Through jaded, pessimistic eyes?/
With drawn out, disbelieving sighs?/
Or with smiles of “Could be!’ whimsy?

Our town is lucky/
2 have a Woman like U./
I think so as well.

She is an attention w*ore./
Give her limelight,/
she wants more!/
Mo’ bigger. Mo’ brite./
Is that fair 2 say?/
Is it the right call?/
More? Now way!/
She wants it all!

Once a, always a,/
isn’t true to me. Ignores/
possibilities.

This haiku morning/
saw me greet the rising sun/
writing emotion.

Chill is a strange pill/
some can’t completely swallow./
Muse calls: we follow!

Like nuclear bombs,/
silence’s poison, unseen,/
kills most from inside.

I complain too much./
I am Eeyore, destroyer/
of relationships.

Women’s hierarchy/
puts poetry after flowers./
I don’t obey rules.

————-
Just in case anyone wonders…
hi·er·ar·chy   /ˈhaɪəˌrɑrki, ˈhaɪrɑr-/ [hahy-uh-rahr-kee, hahy-rahr-]
so it can be either 3 or 4 syllables. If you prefer 4, substitute “Femme’s” for “Women’s” to preserve the 5 syllable integrity of Haiku.

Life changed us today./
We ate, laughed, talked, said goodbye./
Did you feel it, too?

Alternative from someone experiencing the same things from a different perspective
We ate a pot roast./
We ate, laughed, talked, said goodbye./
Did you like the taste?