Hey, little poetess
can you share a line with me?
My poem feels broken and empty
and I do believe you have what I need.

You have been swirling in my mind
ever since you came into the room
with your pale hands splattered with ink,
and your emerald eyes
which look as if they've seen a thousand nights,
and your soft voice
which takes me on a trip
to undiscovered places in my soul.

I'm ready to go anywhere
the smoke of your cigarette takes me.
My heart has been unknowingly still,
but you've shown me how its beating should feel.

How could I put pen to paper
before we ever met?