A Real Love Poem

A very short story about young love... or something.

    They were young and they were happy.  At least he was happy now, but sometimes he was brooding.  She asked him why, and he answered with a line he’d saved for months.  She said sometimes he sounds so poetic, and he said he liked how that fit him.  She asked him to write her a love poem, but he confessed he didn’t know how.  He could write the poems, but he could never get a handle on love.  She laughed and gave him a quick and playful shove.

    He wrote that poem, not of love but something like it.  She smiled when she read it, but he could tell she didn’t like it.  It turned out that brooding didn’t fit her; she liked old cars, the sport stars, and older guys that took her to late night karaoke bars. He was young and she was happy.  He stayed home and waited for the burn to set in, and when it did he wrote his first love poem.

Author's Note

I've been playing around with the thought of creative writing for about a week now, and this is the first coherent idea that came to my head. I know it's short, but that's a reflection of my attempt to confuse the story with poetry rather than my negligible work ethic. (At least that's the excuse I'm standing by.)

Reviews

[RidingTheWind]

I love it! The second part is a little sad, when he knows she doesn't like it, and I love how you've not used any direct speech, which would have ruined the mood a little. I hope you write more stories like this, it was really sweet.