i can't read this anymore

i don't want to read

your poetry anymore she tells me.

it's

awful.

it stinks. it's repetitive

and self 

serving.

all about your broken heart,

your

shallow life.

your girlfriends and

wives.

how hard and cruel the world

can be

at times.

i don't want to read about

that anymore.

i want to read about nature.

about

butterflies

and puppies.

birds and blue skies.

sunrises. i want to read about

hope. if you could just

write one single poem about that

i'd stick

with it,

can you do that for me, please. for

me. just one?

i look at her and smile.

and say

i'm truly sorry, but nope.