I really don’t love you
one bit,
Not your glimmering emerald eyes,
or your sun-kissed shoulders,
or the way you smile at me
when I’ve said something stupid.
I just don’t love you,
so this isn’t a love poem.

It’s a shame you’re single,
I guess
Even if I thought you were attractive,
or I thought you were witty,
or I thought you were the smartest kid
in the entire classroom of jerks.
I just don’t love you,
This is not a love poem.

I follow love’s rules,
primarily,
but you’re just too socially capable,
too flirtatious and charming,
and just way too adaptable,
yet completely genuine for your gender.
I just don’t love you,
Shall I say it again?

That question was rhetorical,
I think.
I am not expecting an answer,
or an inquiring phone call or text
regarding this poem I’ve written
because like I have said before,
I just don’t love you,
and this isn’t a love poem, but it could be.