Roses are red, violets are blue. Cops took my phone...

Roses are food.

Violets are food.

Garbage is food.

I go to the vet a lot.

-My doggo, Zeus 🐕‍🦺

It wasn’t a poem but an ex, several months post-breakup, sent me a literary email mentioning a dream he had, where he gazed into my “storytelling eyes”, and then I faded away and he was left with his sorrow. It was a several-paragraph story of this dream, and was well-written, I must say, which is hilarious because English was not his first language and he had no inclination towards creative writing anyway. Any casual email we sent had some basic grammar or spelling errors that weren’t a big deal. But the fact that this was perfectly written meant he didn’t write it. To this day I’m not sure who wrote it, but it definitely wasn’t him lmao. And I simply deleted it and did not respond.

No, no attempts at written poetry, good, bad or otherwise.

One boyfriend wrote a song for me, which was quite good. After we went our separate ways he called to ask if I would mind if he put it on his demo, since he said it was one of his better songs. I said sure. Never heard of him on the music scene again, guess he never got picked up.