Read Me A Love Poem

"Read me a love poem," she says
as I sat in contemplation
Trying to consider whether or not this situation
Made cause for me to conjure a soulful inebriation
Through a mental stimulation
That might create a new type of reaction
From her towards a brotha like me.
Traditionally I rise to the occasion
And bask in my own triumphs
The gift given to me by poetically justified gods;
And since nothing was going for me then
It would have been a sin not to take this gift and run with it.
To spend hours on end in front of computers
Teaching myself to type sixty words a minute
Researching metaphors, similes,
Works of literature, theological figures,
Anatomy, astronomy, anthropology,
Psychology, biology, sociology,
And all those other ologies that helped me possibly
Create the ingredients for perfect poetry
That stimulates every single idea that could ponder within a wonder
'Read me a love poem', she says
Not knowing that the dream is so much more beautiful
Than its resultant reality
And I, being a lover of fantasy
Became my own saddest tragedy
Forcing me to trust reality
And realize that they never really liked me
But the gimmick was poetry
So I sold it like we would sell each other into slavery
Not thinking of the greater good
But of self and worth
And losing sight of self-worth
Until we can’t figure out that insecurities are nothing more than
A miscalculation of the worth of self
Meaning I wrote to equalize the balance
Get back to ground zero
Compensate for something missing
Don’t let your mind wonder down yonder
Cause my compensation is merely a lack of living itself
So I spent my sheltered adolescence teaching myself
How to lie to myself
In rhyme
How to make women want to spend their time
Getting into my mind
Only to find
Intelligence, mixed with insecurities
And an immensely old soul
"Come on," she says, "Read me a poem,"
And any other time that would have been my cue
To lay down the charm, flatter the mind
And hope that what follows is the behind
But something has changed in my frame of mind
Something is different
Something is aloof
Something is off
Something is…disgusted
Not at this pretty brown eyed
Sun kissed young woman
Who sits before me
Eyes full of excitement and allure
No, I am disgusted at the monster I have become
I used to dream that one day my romantic side could be freed
But now over so many years there’s an icebox where my heart used to be
I lost my way through the bitterness of my youth
Laid the pen aside and got in the booth
Tell girls what they want to hear so they can stay around
And try to hide my conviction in alcohol and Black and Milds
And as she patiently waits for me to say a poem
I stand to my feet and tell her I have to go home
When she asks why I reply with a sigh
And say to her, "when the time is right,
There will be written about you a love poem so beautiful you will cry
And you’re so beautiful I hope it is me who writes it
but love takes time and tonight is not the night to rush it