Shall I compare thee to a winter’s day?
Thou art much colder and tempestuous
Like a blizzard in the month of May,
Leaving me shocked, frozen and suspicious.
I’d rather bear a thousand blazing summers
Than a moment under your icicle;
You love and leave
A patron saint of the fickle.
And like an avalanche
Your apologies
Never hinder another storm
And that blanket of niceties
Doesn’t keep me warm
Too many holes from wearing it thin
Like the skin I’m living in
No stolen heart will give you
What you can win
If only you would give more than you take…
Shall I compare thee to a winter’s day?
