I love how forgiving you are, which is good because I have some news.
—from the “Take a Compliment” card set

No, I’m not breaking up with you.
No, no one died. Well, I’m sure someone did, but not anyone we know.
At the moment.
No, I didn’t get fired or quit or crash the car.
I’m outing myself, coming out of the closet. Not that closet.
You may have suspected this: I’ve been poeting in secret for some time now.
Not writing—well, yes, writing—but writing poems.
I know, I know. There’s no money in poetry. No one reads poetry.
Why would I waste my time writing poems that don’t even rhyme?
You’re right, they don’t rhyme. Here, read one.
Yeah, I guess you could say that it’s a story cut into short lines.
But look, it’s gotta good metaphor and some nice images—that one with the bee
helicoptering around the blossoms?
You don’t like that one? That’s OK. You don’t have to.
You don’t have to like any of them. Or read them.
I just want you to accept me as I am. A working poet.
A poet’s gotta poet, and I’ve gotta show it.
Yes, I know that’s a bad rhyme. Really, I do.
Trying for some levity here.
No, that’s not a poetic word. Well, maybe it is.
No, I’m not gonna start wearing puffy-sleeved shirts and quoting Shakespeare.
Well, no more than usual.
Yeah, I understand that this is a lot to take in.
Sure, take all the time you need to think about it.
But it doesn’t change anything, honey.
For a long time you’ve been dating a poet. You just didn’t know it.
Gotta go now, poem’s a comin’.
We’ll talk later, ‘K?