Sonnet 1: Would I Be Better At 400lbs A Year? Poem by Jacques De Boys

Love must be ungrateful or your interest must be 
over rid by rude men. Who will believe that I 
beautified all my comments for you? & your old 
shrugs, like leftovers, could stretch the taste of 
emptyness. I come to you, but a bit of bold-  
you could be a fading sweet. My words will forever 
live young through this antique pen. But you are no 
different than any other beauty pattern: a men's 
succession. Your mother must have forgotten to 
teach you to plead for love, & your father, a romance 
executive, could pardon my slow offense. Need I 
say a little less? I show my strength by limping with 
a disable arm. I am perfection by intentional mistakes.
Need I say more?