She Wants a Poem

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She wants a poem I cannot write, one for which I have no sourse of inspiration or reason, drive or occassion. Yet I find myself letting the ink flow for something I have no idea why I’m doing.

Yes, she’s beautiful, yet I find that not enough a reason to dedicate to her what she has requested of me. And in spite of her not being special enough to merit this paradox I’m putting together, here I am, acquiescent to her whim of having a man with a knack for words put his skills to use solely for her flattery.

It means nothing, to me at least. But the fact that it might mean something to her makes the pen guide my hand through a path to her smile and empty admiration. Maybe I like the attention, or perhaps I’m only letting this flow because she does, and that feeds my hidden desire to oblige. I’ll never know, but this isn’t about answers, it is about a request that might’ve been a joke but the quill inside me took to heart, a challenge if you will, with a vague purpose only secondary to the fact that all she had to do was ask.

And knowing my weakness is found in aiming to please, somehow my better judgment becomes trumped to maybe wanting what cannot be had.

She wants a poem, and it would seem that’s all that matters, something about the idea of a man putting together verses aimed at her ego brings some kind of pedestal to the whole situation, but seeing her place her feet upon it is all there is for me, and I’m at peace with that.

She wants a poem, I don’t know why, maybe it was an empty dare, and perhaps I told her it couldn’t be done, and perhaps she’s okay with that; however somehing told me it could, and should be made, and now it’s too late to tell myself this is stupid, for the words have already been laid.

It’s 3 a.m. And I’m writing her a poem, shallow in purpose yet profound, meaningless and at the same time filled with hope she’ll find sense in its sound.

She wants a poem, and a poem she’ll get… Whether or not she reciprocates to this hopeless collage of words is but a lost bet… A bet I’m placing simply because she wants a poem.

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