I won't do it.

I won't write a poem about you.

I won't write a poem with romantic undertones

With less than clear allusions

With more than obvious implications.

I won't do it.

I won't compare your eyes to the ocean,

Or a cloudless summer sky,

Or an endless waterfall.

I won't do it.

I won't describe the hardness of your jaw—

So sharp you could cut diamonds—

With perfect cadence and semi-awkward meter.

I won't do it.

I won't go on pretending

That this poem isn't exactly what I said

I wouldn't do.