I'm a poet and I got early access to OpenAI's GPT3 Text generator. I fed the model a few of my poems, and asked it to write some poems addressed to "My Beau" Do you feel the love?flowers on the roof of your mouth
roses grow there now, don’t brush them away
we have no need for words tonight, instead I will cut out my tongue
I'm jealous of your breathless lungs; they are more fluent than mine. You kiss me like a phantom , I can see myself through your eyes. This dark room is a country we can’t leave.His skull is a birdcage of bones and skin. I'm not saying he’s ugly, I mean his skeleton has good bone structure, good brow lines—so much so that it looks like an aviary for his mind to nest in.in winter when it rains after sunset I think about you,
in spring when it's sunny at night I think about you,
are there even stars out right now?
in summer when it's warm at noon I think about you,
do trees shiver around me or am I still hot from yesterday?the city is full of men who look like you
and I don’t know how to tell them apart from you
except by the sound your bike makes when it locks
because that is a noise that only belongs to you
and I can hear it from anywhere in the building,
even while lying in bed
pretending not to have heard anythingI want to be a bike messenger in the ‘90s and you are my boss, an investment banker, with a heart of gold. You look like Tom Cruise in Interview With A Vampire. We meet on Tinder and fall madly into love at first sight but then realize we live too far away from each othersunlight breaks in the afternoon, I soak up your energy for an article on how to be a productive writer, I spend my days in front of screens looking for productiveness looking for inspiration. Instead, I found you. You are not just outside my window but inside me.