It doesn't matter anymore.
Why pull on heart strings that are sore?
In a culinary galore,
The tastiest dish is a bore.
It aches just to think of your face,
Much more, distanced in the same place.
Give gloves to a dying boxer,
Knives for a blood fearing butcher.
Parallel lines abreast don't touch,
I'm a boy. I can't give much.

I'M SORRY MY SNOWFLAKE!!!