so in the standard
cliche
teenage poet fashion
i must write another love poem
unlike any before
because somehow
i cannot return
to my old style
of imaginary liasion
through waxing
romanticism
because i have grown rusty
in the trade
of falling head first
into anything
at all
Tht compromises
must be made
on my part
to sacrifice my
cynicism and bitchery
in the stead of doing
what is required
and that is
to write about you
in trite poetry
and talking about your eyes
of which i know not
the color
and somehow i
care not
to know your gender
thoguh i know it
and to know your face
it is no matter
though i have memorized
it
because romantic poetry
reeks of
sap and lies
none of which i wish to
tell to you
or about you
but oblifation drives me
to makea rhyme or two
anout your eyes
your teeth
your smile
things trivial but true.