Meht: I really want to write poetry, but I don't know if I can.
Em: You'll never know if you don't try.
Meht: Eh, I think I'll just leave it to other people...
Em: Not acceptable! You write and poem and give it to me, and I'll write a poem and give it to you.
Meht: Promise not to show anyone mine?
Em: Of course... can't say the same about mine though.
Meht: Deal.
Long story short: Here's my poem entitled "The Rest of Your Soul"
golden streams of love
against the purple set canvas
iridescent diamonds
shining from the earth to the sky
what comes next?
the florescent lightning careens
cascading from the sky
and the incandescent shards
decorating the heavens
what comes next?
sinking into this comfort
this comfort of not knowing
and the nonsense of the night sky
made into a marvel of life
falling asleep to finally wake up


