I can’t say you’re my cup of tea;
that would be unfair to tea.
You’re more like lukewarm tap water
left forgotten on a windowsill.

Or perhaps a frog— but not the charming kind
that leaps through enchanted bogs.
No prince is hiding beneath your disguise;
I’ve seen enough with my eyes.

You, sir, are an off-brand fishing lure,
all glitter, hook, and promise to shine.
Made to catch attention, until you
open your mouth— never worth the line.