Shall I compare you to a summer's day?

No, 'cause that's a bad decision on the whole

For you are neither lovely, and of temperance

don't speak, or I'll choke on raucous laughter.

*

You steal from me

My heart, my cigarettes, my time

(Ill spent on prying your attention)

And like a black-skinned Scorpion

You twist my breast between your pincers

*

You hate me when you're sober

Or, say you're not a fan of "daytime sex."

And every day, it seems like "you and I" is over

And then tomorrow, some grain

of a trash-can-smelling love,

which neither I nor you desire,

comes stumbling back,

as though a lost son, home for winter,

or an alley cat, starving

and crawling towards warmth.

*

You only grope me when you're drunk

You give blurry, loose affection.

It's slippery, and I can barely hold on

to its fleeting, dusky waves.

*

You ARE like a summer's day

For you announce your presence

with heat and dust and smoke,

and wishes for some nightlife

because it is simply too scorching in the day.

*

And like a summer's day

you roll on in heatwaves,

drowning all else,

blistering and scorching

like the intemperate weather

in which, like our love,

I have no choosing.