Blank.

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She asked me to write about her,

I’m guessing anything

That would perchance

Give her a tit-bit, some insight

Of how I see her In my mind.

 

A dangerous request

For a presumptuous individual,

For the truth

Is not always in parallel

With expectations.

I could’ve lied

Rather easy, for poets

To couple a few lines

Leaving her romanticized.

 

Feelings don’t surface in mid-air

And with that, she got a blank paper

A perfectly poetic representation

To help derail my

Pre-supposed infatuation;

Nothing.

 

– Original-Dante ©2016

 

Photograph by: Kodi111