To doodle on the sides of my book

was not what I first had in mind

When you said

you needed to write me something

I wasn’t expecting

A heart shaped iris

Drawn above the neatly organized lines

Inside sketched eyes

Instead of dark circles

I thought a letter was what I'd find

Not a diaper baby

Floating on what seems to be clouds of dust farts

Shooting safety pins

At calligraphy of the word

“SweetP”

A nickname

I apparently, now have

You said

Only a moment it would take

So when it took hours to get my book back

I thought you were a true poet

A master craftsman

For I know how long it takes to put thoughts to words

Lord knows You're not that simple

As to write love poems

To later compose into song

With maybe a few of Dolly’s notes, here and there

Her classic country lines

Organized neatly within these thin slices of paper

you're not that simple

As to leave me a yes or no question

Or pages of X and O’s

No!

You draw a hand made sweater vests

With us wrapped within its center

Held together by a couple of bandaids

Playing a puppy faced slot machine

Puking petals instead of coins

And then you stare

As I flip through the pages

shaken by nerves

You stare

At what id do

How id react to the weight of how you feel

And I'm not that simple as to show it

Or perhaps

not that brave

So when i flipped to a page

With the safety pin I so clearly remember

Attached to the sweater your grandma made last Christmas

Which you swore

tore by accident

And this pin held it together

The pin i gave you

When i saw it

Piercing through the pages

I couldn’t help but smile

At the complexity

of you returning what was mine

Something i gave long before

And longed fore

So, yes I smiled

All my mind could think to do

And I hope you see it

Through these scribbled lines

I hope you come to understand

The weight of it