Spare me the critique
I’m not an actor
Why compare the physique
to bodies on X-Factor?
I recall in the spring
of our lively step
Ideas captured everything
and frustrations never wept
I was that handsome dude
who made your knees buckle
Though often somewhat lewd
not more than you could handle
You’ve suppressed my joy
It has gone to sleep
You’ve found another toy
My appetite on rubbish heap
Chances are it’ll blow over
as most storms do
However, bad ones hover
Which storm are you?
