A Poet's Penance
She smiled
An ambient temperature smile
At best
A torqued acknowledgement.
The paper shrieked
Eraser burn and frustration
Testing the limits
Of its tortured muse.
Again
Words kissed the atmosphere
Glided on meter
Danced in a rhythmic dream.
Again
She smiled
A tear, a whispered
“I love you”
Embracing her gift
I wondered:
“Would you love me If I wasn’t a poet?”
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