Hello pretty lady.
Like the center of the sun
Burning a hole in all the eyes
That steal a glance at you.
Enhance my day
By existing in immortal language
And inspiring a poem
Making roses blush, cliché!
How many men have you enchanted?
How many have dedicated
A rhyme, a sonnet, a stanza
To become the marrow instead words?
You manufacture clichés,
Inspiration comes in repetition
As you make boys yearn
For manly things.
Oh but do I become like Paz?
When does your beauty
Stop me from putting to words
What i could not express in action?
Oh but this is for you
Who deny me because you
Make me nervous
And take my breath away,cliché!
I dedicate this to you for inspiration
And that your mere presence
Is strength to feeble men
And born are wonderful words...
You,woman who makes it brighter
In an ocean of passions described,
Twinkling in and out of existence,
The battle to write a little more
Leaving me to starve
And the words are never enough,
Cliché.
Feb 15
Feb 15, 2026 at 2:31 PM UTC
Hello pretty lady.
Like the center of the sun
Burning a hole in all the eyes
That steal a glance at you.
Enhance my day
By existing in immortal language
And inspiring a poem
Making roses blush, cliché!
How many men have you enchanted?
How many have dedicated
A rhyme, a sonnet, a stanza
To become the marrow instead words?
You manufacture clichés,
Inspiration comes in repetition
As you make boys yearn
For manly things.
Oh but do I become like Paz?
When does your beauty
Stop me from putting to words
What i could not express in action?
Oh but this is for you
Who deny me because you
Make me nervous
And take my breath away,cliché!
I dedicate this to you for inspiration
And that your mere presence
Is strength to feeble men
And born are wonderful words...
You,woman who makes it brighter
In an ocean of passions described,
Twinkling in and out of existence,
The battle to write a little more
Leaving me to starve
And the words are never enough,
Cliché.
