Author: StoryBirth
Prompt: Bad love letter to *blank*.
Title: Spike's Wastebin
Dearest Rarity...
I love you so much Im writing this poem.
Others think I stand no chance, but I'll show em.
"No...seems like I'm trying to show off..." Spike scoffed at his first idea. Oh well, it was a first draft anyway. He threw it in the wastebin.
Your coat, it is a beautiful white
I'd really like to fly a kite.
With you...I mean...
"Ugh. Poems are harder than I thought. But anything for Rarity." He threw it in the wastebin.
I have a really big crush on you.
I like you more than a pile of
"No..." Goo wouldn't work. He threw it in the wastebin.
Your hair's a wonderful shade of purple.
"Aurple...Burple...Curple..." He threw it in the wastebin.
Your eyes remind me of saffires.
"Wait, that's not right. Twilight! How do you spell sapphires?" he called to the other room.
"With a ph, Spike!" He threw it in the wastebin.
Your eyes remind me of saphires.
"No, two "p"'s, Spike," Twilight said, reading over his shoulder during her few seconds of free time.
"Now, that's just confusing. Then it'd sound like sap fires! Dumb ink...now I have to throw it away." He threw it in the wastebin.
Your eyes remind me of sapphires
Your hair reminds me of golden wires
"Yeah... This is good. But her beautiful mane isn't gold... I can keep going with it, though."
The only difference is that your wires are purple
"...Gurple...Glurple...Hurple...Iurple..." He threw it in the wastebin.
Your bright eyes shine like your cutie mark...
"Huh...mark...mark...bark? No...tree bark isn't exactly gorgeous... Wait! I got it!"
...and your horn reminds me of Pony Stark.
I took a second for Spike to even register what he wrote. "Why... Why did I write that?" He threw it in the wastebin, along with an Iron Pony comic book. He'd been reading them too much anyway.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
"I'm sure she'd love a classic, right?"
Sugar is sweet
And so
Suddenly, the ink bottle fell on the parchment he was writing on. "Oh come on!" He placed the ink-drenched page on top of the colossal pile of crumbled parchment in his wastebin.
------
Rarity looked at the note that was just slipped under her door. Whoever sent it was nowhere to be seen, but perhaps she could guess based on what the note said. Her first hint was that whoever wrote this didn't rank highly in penmanship, with letters that looked almost like random squiggly lines. Regardless of bad penmanship, she could still read it.
My Dearest Rarity,
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Forget the poem!
I love you!
Sincerely,
Your secret admirer.
Rarity looked over the sloppy parchment with a smile. She then made her way up the stairs to her room and pinned it on her billboard, next to a picture of Spike.