SONNET 130 RETOLD

My Mistresses eyes are nothing like the sun;

Because eyes don’t fucking burn;

If snow be white,  why then her breasts are most certainly not made of snow.

If hairs be wires, dark cables emanate from her skull.

I have seen roses (certainly not those of Tudor) damasked, red and white, (Not Liz.)

But my mistress is a person, not a flower, so really what comparison could I make?

I like perfumes. In fact, I like perfumes more than her breath-

I prefer her mouth to do other things near my face, and be breathless.

I kinda like her voice- but tbh I prefer the soothing countenance of Nickelback

And she’s no goddess,

She doesn’t float, but she walks side-by-side with me.

And in doing so, I think she becomes as rare as my love

For any false or doomed goddess, even if this feeling is more… Rough.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s