Worst Love Poem Ever Written

Written by: Poet Michael Ellis

I suck at dying poems
Chemo poems, Metastatic Cancer poems,
Hair falling out in the shower poems
 
And I told a half truth
When I told you I could write you one
In less than six months (It's been eight)
I apologize for being so late

 
I wanted your poem to be pink and graceful
Like those ribbons
I see all over the internet
Filled with cheesy generic rhymes
That read like a Hallmark audition

  But already my metaphors are melting
And my similes are getting soft
 I guarantee you the rhyme meter will be off

 When I went to Google
And the typed in the word 'happy'
Three billion links came up

Not a single inference to
Breast cancer, hair loss
No redirects to mastectomies
Yahoo wasn't any kinder

 
The only thing research could teach me
Is that a good day on chemo
Is when your stool doesn't come out tar Black
And has no blood in it

Or when your urine
Smells better on Wednesday
Than it did on Tuesday

Sleeping less than 12 hours
When 24 would be better

  
America has more poets
Than it does alcoholics
   And Pot smokers combined
And you chose me to be
Your Breast Cancer
Poet Laureate

Trusting me to write a poem
About the biggest battle in your life

So I refuse to finish this poem
Without something bright and hopeful
 
And don't think
I didn't notice your Facebook activity
Had decreased by 88%
In the last three months

 
And you aren't really
Coming to any more of my poetry shows
Ever again. Are you??
But we still have March, April
Don't we?

 
But even if you had one breast
Or no breast

Or if you had less hair than I do
I promise to look only in your eyes
And never ever even notice
Or even think about it

And never for a moment
Would I feel sorry for you

Yes I suck at lying too...

 
But I don't suck at loving you
Or at hoping you wake up tomorrow morning
 With no Cancer at all
And that The Eiffel Tower will be right outside
Your bedroom window...

And I would be right there with you
Holding your hand while we look down on Paris
And you can impress me with your French again

 
And if I ever make it
To the Pulitzer Poetry board
I might lose a thousand points
Just for this poem alone

And my hopes for the prize will be smitten
And some old person 
With white hair will say
That was the worst love poem ever written