I was thinking about whoever ends up being with me is
going to have to contend with the fact that I’m gonna write about everything that they do,
and there’ll be poetry everywhere,
there’ll be haikus about the way they roll up their jeans in the morning,
and toothpaste sonnets on the bathroom mirror
and they’ll probably wake up with stanzas inked on their chest
and holy hell,
this person had better find me cute otherwise it’s gonna get annoying real fast being with the brown version of Taylor Swift.