" Poor Cecil, consumed by a grande passion, only to be told to compress his love manifesto into a haiku. “I won’t try to excuse my behavior,” he said. “It was despicable.”

Or a limerick.

There once was a rotter named Cecil,
Whose Love Interest wished he could be still.

Oh well. Unlike some, at least, I’ve never pretended to be a poet. "

― Franny Billingsley , Chime