Describe Your Writing to Me

He is staring over the top of his glasses with an inane curiosity and I am not sure what to say. Past experience is weighing heavy on my brain --- overthinking has commenced. I have told him I am a poet and now he wants the details. So I start.........I write poetry. He says "So cute, rhyming love poems?" I almost spit out my tequila. Um, no more like dark, sparsely worded poems that rarely rhyme. Poems that leave one asking questions or hating it. Why would you write something someone would hate? I look at him and am slowly coming to the conclusion that while there is a chemistry, there is no mental connection as I am coming up with a response. I look up and look past him. I tell him I write for me, not for an audience, not for the applause, not for the bound books. I write what my mind twists to explain the darkness within me and the world. I like the words that you rarely hear combined in new ways that maybe don't always make sense. He touches my hand and says "Have you sought help for this?" Sought help for what I ask? If you mean letting the dark out on the sidewalks covered in shadows and sunlight, the answer is no. I ask him if he wants to read one to get an idea of my writing. He makes this odd noise and fumbles with his phone. I look at the legs of tequila on the inside of my glass and know its time to run.