MY MISTRESS’ EYES ARE LIKE CINNABONS
1 min readApr 28, 2020
SONNET 86
They’re crazy large, she is such a freak
And they are not just brown, but sugary
And did I tell you her breath doth reek
And I rue the very day she chose me
If hair were pasta, it grows from her head
Makes sense, because she cannot stop eating
At night she brings ancient pizza to bed
My stomach turns, it keeps on repeating
There are stale chips all over the blanket
There are old gummies under my pillow
Rotten apple juice, she never drank it
I could never sell this house on Zillow
But she stays up with me to watch Seinfeld
She throws up every time she sees Newman