Shall I Compare Thee
Jump to navigation
Jump to search
Shall I compare thee to a Winter's day?
Thou art more unpleasant and more frigid:
Rough skin doth shape thy sagging breasts of grey,
And Winter's touch doth not leave me rigid:
Sometimes the bright glare of hot flashes shine,
And often am I burned within thy midst;
The seasons they change as thy looks decline,
And doubly whenever thy mood is pissed:
But my steady devotion shall not fade
Nor lose possession of thine hand once fair;
For I've grown accustomed to being flayed,
And living indoors, within thy dark lair:
So long as divorce ruins men like me,
I am thy slave; my life belongs to thee.