Conversation (revision)

I feel like this is sort of cheating for NaPoWriMo because this is a poem I wrote before, just slightly reworked for my poetry class. I’m not sure that I like the revision. If you want to see the original version, you can check it out here. Enjoy!

Lucifer sits
beside me with one 

blue-jeaned knee
pulled up to his chest 


and one lanky leg
draped over the dock: 

“but isn’t pain sort of 

beautiful, in its own way?”


his hair’s the kind
of blonde that
holds
the sunlight and his eyes

are speckled blue


(but not so beautiful
because
he knows i’d be
suspicious).
“and where would
art come from?”

“you’re good,” i tell him

as he picks at his guitar.
he shrugs with a small

quirk of a smile.

“would you really
want
to be perfect?”
“i don’t know,” i say.
“i
don’t know what perfect


looks like.”
the dusky sunlight shows
the
rogue freckle aside
his nose and
the teeth

that are slightly

(charmingly)
crooked.
“why do you think i
fell?”
he doesn’t need

an answer, but
my
silence is one.

“you’re good,”

i say again.

“i know.”
the Adversary picks
hey there delilah
on the acoustic.


“you’d miss it.”
“maybe.”
“you’d want a minor

chord. a piece of
poetry.

something real.”
“how’d you get so
good at this?”
another smile. “years of


practice.” “maybe you’re

wrong.” “and maybe
i’m not.” i pause.
“i guess we’ll find out.”
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