Hey, wanna talk?
You’re not all about the prose, all smiles, I get it.
You may tell me your p – o – – e m s.
Let me fix you a coffee.
Hmm, I should’ve offered it sooner.
Like, this strophe’s opening verse
belongs in the second line, first strophe, right?
You do this poetry thing so well,
I didn’t even know where to start.
Coffee is your cup of tea; mine too.
Remember that poem you wrote about it?
By the way, you’ve written a lot.
Tell me your p – o – – e m s.
State your dilemmas.
I don’t wanna force a friendship,
I just wanna reach you out.
This may be the only way.
Those latest verses… Are you in pain?
Was that your lyrical or physical self?
Were they a cry for help?
Talking’s tough, I get it.
You can write to me instead.
Sure, I’ll pay more attention to your next verses.
You’ve decided to talk. That’s great.
Could we talk in private?
Reveries That I Call Poetry 