Analysis of A Conversation

And she spoke
of genuine poetry,
words of complexity wrapped up
in passionate hurricanes of language,
a pen danced in between fingers,
absently, destiny twirled
as her eyes pushed forward
to whip a question.

"What is it to you?"

I tilted my head,
pondered for a moment
while skeletons picked at fleshy thought.

It was the only answer
which rammed me with elegant reserve,
but a second later I whispered, "love."

A spatial relationship
slipped across her lips;
wet with tongue's pondered smile.

"Emotional and observational simplicity!"

And with that she removed
herself from the bed,
the curtains closed with a generous swoosh.

As the pillow caught my hair,
she sighed extravagantly,
her dress fell to the floor.

'Now that is poetry!' I thought.