An Honest Conversation

She said:

I could write short lines
Leave my message in between
For you to tamper with it later
But why should I?
My dad paid for my education
And I have 978 character’s left
To say “ don’t leave me or I’ll die”
And since I know that makes no sense
I decided to write a nice poem
With finicky words and have my claim to fame
Now that makes me a cheap poet
You would say, but then nothing’s cheap these days
Let me be.

He said:

I still remember your fingers
Thin, long and slender
Holding the bottle of beer
Like it meant the world to you
And my eye
Hovering over your shoulder
Prying lower, no more a gentleman.
I wish I was high, then prolly I’d say“touch me I think I’ll fly”
and you’ll rhyme your words, your answer
make a poem titled “fly”
I'd gulp down my dissapointment and say
T’was lovely!