I ask her if I'm amazing
And she answers yes.
I ask her if I write good poems
And she answers yes.

She seems not to see my down side.
She seems like seeing me perfect.
I ask her to criticize me
And she answers, "how"?

She undress herself to explain everything
And I say,
"you being naked won't explain anything.
It would just push me to write more poetries".

Then I write while we ***
My pen in her body
And her skin as the paper
And our world as the poem.

We write it together
To the best of our abilities.