Don't read this
I warn you
You might be able to relate too well to this

Huh still here are you
Alright I guess I'll have to go on then
My friend, my advice is simple

Never date a poet

Unless you want to be endlessly romanticized
To be able too see nothing but a torn form of affection for you and writing in the eyes

If you don't want the burden of being a never ceasing muse
Being paired with someone who's hearts taken all kinds of abuse

And if you abhor not talking, but constant wordings about what's truly on the brain
Then for the love of God don't do it,  it'll drive you insane

So please, unless you want these things and aren't afraid to show it.

Then don't,  Just don't date a poet

it doesn't make sense for me to feel this way
because you're not even mine
but i still can't help feeling the way that i do
like i'm drowning and the water is digging into my lungs like a knife
i'm tired of the way my heart wants something that it can't have
making me feel sad at night over things within my grasp
but can't really hold with my hands

If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie,
Life would be delight,—
But things couldn’t go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn’t be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I’d be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn’t be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,—
Yet they’d all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn’t be we.

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

Oh the horror, the horror!
My closet is full, yet I have nothing to wear.
I’m slipping into madness with the burden
To decide between medium well and rare.
If there’s another commercial I’ll surely die;
Can you pass me the remote with my fries?
WHAT! They’re not warm and crispy!
I can’t eat this…it’s too risky.
The show is over, now I have nothing to do,
I guess I’ll lament in the game room.
My life is in shambles; it’s falling apart,
I won’t be able to afford all the items in my cart:
Out goes the Apple earbuds, I’d rather have Beats,
Do I really need another pair of Gucci earrings?  
Sorry, memory foam mattress, you’ll have to wait,
Soon I have to make the hardest decision ever made:
Hulu, Netflix, or HBO on demand,
One I’ll have to sacrifice.
I wish you would understand
The misfortune that is my life.
You tell me to be grateful with all my bounty,
But clearly you are blind to my abject poverty.