He took a shot at my mind,
Introduced himself as someone who really had a knack for literature,
Gained access into my mind where my conversations lie
He asked questions I knew how to answer,
Blindly called me, “Dear”
Without knowing the hatred I hold for that word,
He shall know that now, for this poem is dedicated to him.
A teacher by profession, I salute him for that
Because unbeknown to him, I too almost became a teacher but dropped out
Solely because school children are a nightmare
And I do not like social spaces.
From what he tells me, it would seem that we are similar,
Having embraced the knowledge of my emotional being,
I have to say that I also have a strong dislike for my feelings
Which is an emotion on its self, go figure!
I have not written anything in over a year,
He must consider himself special
As he is the first thing I’ve written about
In this dry spell that has overshadowed me.
Having been asked to write a poem,
The first thing that came to mind was, “Oh crap”.
I am rusty, shaking off dust that accumulated in my figurative pen,
I am protective of the words that I will give to you freely,
They are my insecurities, accept them, they were made for you!
A boy from across the continent asked that I write a poem about him
And this is all I could come up with,
Tried to think of rhymes but that did not work
And I’ll end the poem with a full stop that comes after the last word.