Shakespeare sits at his desk proud of the poetry he just wrote. Illustration by Bianca Oppedisano (She/Her) / Mass Media Staff.

Roses are red,

Beacons are blue.

Nothing is as great as my love for you.

I don’t have a Rolex or convertible.

I may not be good, but I’m affordable.

I’m honestly not that good of a person,

But without you, my situation would only worsen.

Love is like a rotting tooth,

Burning pain, it’s feeling loose.

You rip it out and then it bleeds,

Too much blood, no thank you, please.

Your eyes are like quasars,

Burning oh, so bright.

The mere thought of you keeps me up at night.

My love is a Subway sub,

Jersey Mike’s is a sub above.

Growing stronger by the day,

You can have it your way.

If you were the sun,

Then I would go blind.

If you were a clock,

I’d get lost in time.

If you were a jail,

I would commit a crime.

If you were a knife,

I’d stab myself in the neck.

Compared to you, flowers smell like poop.

Compared to you, ice cream tastes like soup.

Compared to you, sunshine looks like rain.

Compared to you, pleasure feels like pain.

Penny weeny, love so teeny.

So small that it hurts.

You hide your love, just like Houdini.

I bury my heart in the dirt.

You are a deer, frozen in the headlights.

My love is a car, speeding under moonlight.

A collision course of fate:

Watch out!

Arsenic is something you should never eat.

There’s a concerning amount of people online who like feet.

Never send a stranger a picture.

Seriously, though. Don’t.

You’re as sexy as Optimus Prime.

One glance at you and I’m on cloud nine.

I’ll love you all the way to 2099.

Even if I have a cyborg mind.

Our love is an orange put out on display.

Like any good orange, our love will decay.

But the fact that an orange turns old and gray,

Is what makes it worth loving each and every day.

Maybe in another universe,

You and I are turtle doves.

I’m not sure what a turtle dove is,

But it seems like it would be nice.

You seem like you’re pretty cool,

As pretty as a sapphire jewel.

I can’t believe our luck,

Let’s go back to my room and hang out.

The fluttering wings of a hummingbird,

Strum the cello of our love.

Moving fast, life will pass,

And we’ll be a bunch of bones.