Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Please Forgive Me
How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways.
I hate thee to the depth and breath and height
my plunger can reach, when reaching out of sight.
to the ends of a stopped-up toilet bowl.
I hate thee to the level of everyday’s.
most disgusting need, by sun and candle-light.
I hate thee freely, as no other men would want thee.
I hate thee purely, as thy years have taken their toll.
I hate thee because thy brain appears too loose.
Good grief, thou art a woman no man would choose.
I hate thee as much as crap from a goose.
With coke up thy nose, and smell of whiskey on thy breath,
it appears since thy birth, thou were destined to lose.
I shall but hate thee even after thy death.
Sonnet 43 (How do I love Thee, let me count the ways)
By Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2012
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