She...

I found this poem on the net somewhere over a year ago. I don't remember where I found it or who told it to me or anything. So, basically what I'm saying is that the author is presently unknown. But when I read this poem, it touched me so deeply, I copied it down and put it away. Just the other day I dug it up as I was cleaning my room and decided to post it here. Enjoy.

She...

She wrote out a story about her life. I think it included something about me. I'm not sure of that but I'm sure of one thing. Her spelling's atrocious. She told me to read between the lines and I tell her exactly what I get out of it. I told her affection had two F's, especially when you're dealing with me. I usually notice all the little things. Once upon a time I was proud of it. She says it's annoying. She cursed me up and down and rolled her R's (her beautiful R's). She says I'm caught up in trivialty. All I really want to know is what she thinks of me. I think my love for her makes me miss the point.
I miss the point


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