• I cannot write a love poem,

    Because there aren't any left.

    I could say you're sweet and cute,

    But it's been said before.

    I could say I wasn't alive 'till I met you,

    But, please, what a cliche.

    No there is no way I could write of love,

    Or passion or desire for another,

    Without stealing someone's work.

    But what I think bothers me the most,

    Is that I've not yet loved at all.