I read what you wrote.
Bring me the coffee so I can read it again,
This time, calmer
This time, knowing
The week is expiring into a nonsensical knot
I have given up on my hair
Sitting in my bed with an ugly grease-bun
Sipping my coffee
I'm reading it again
You write like a bird flying with twigs
Making a nest but not quite, yet
Who am I to review?
Let's say, I'm the cat
I'm eyeing your little home building every dawn
For a chance to pounce upon it
Don't look so shocked, please
Don't pretend you didn't know I am ruthless.
Bring me the fork please, thank you
It's delicious how I can tear apart
Your feeble similes and metaphors
Oh, so easily.
Your poems reek of Romeo and Juliet
No complaints, but, really?
Would you die for him,
Or is it only your many moments
Of boredom turned infatuation
Teen drama cliché
I know you're older, I know
Stop scowling.
The poem looks fine
Could've been a little less flowery
Could've been more like a poem.
Even then, my dear, it's all wrong
My coffee has never tasted so bitter
And whose fault is it?
You fell for the one I fell for.