A Poetic Relationship and Why

If you are expecting me to write this post in poetry, I'm afraid you're going to be very disappointed. I can't write poetry. Like at all. And if you're expecting this to be a post about a boy, you're going to be very disappointed. But I really, really like poetry. (And ok, I like boys too. But they aren't post-worthy right now.)

Anywho, I'm going to tell you the story about my relationship with poetry. Here we go.

I hated Poetry. He led me on and then confused me. And so I turned away and ignored him. We continued like this for many years. When we accidentally ran into each other, it was an awkward moment before I ducked my head and walked off while Poetry stood there iambicly. Time passed. I moved on; my love for Words grew, and Poetry seemed forgotten. But Words was tough. I struggled to gain favor, trying attract attention. As an attempt to make my way with Words, I began to flirt with Poetry again. (Because, you know, jealousy in a relationship is always a good idea.) At first it was weird. I mean, I'd tried before and where did that get me? But slowly a new relationship unfolded. I didn't want to acknowledge it at first; I now knew that I had been in the wrong the first time. I was realizing that my previous bad relationship with Poetry had been my fault. And now, so many years later, he was unchanged and my heart was ready. Ready to jump into something wonderful. And so we did. Since that day, Poetry and I have been happy together. He's taught me to stop and think, to look and see, to read the white space, to savor language, to slow down when I read, and to read with my heart and my head. And isn't that poetic?

Ps. In case you're wondering, Words and I are just good friends now.