poetry, ig

I take a sip of my drink and pause for a moment, considering the question.

My mind feels jumbled, the thoughts scattered. I feel a sense of frustration building inside of me, a sense that I'm not doing justice to the passion and intensity that I feel when I write.

"Poetry," my mouth finally stumbles, meeting her green eyes across the table.

"Tell me more." she answers interested.

"It's a way for me to capture the beauty of the world around me..." she looks away to the neighbor's table "...to take the ordinary and turn it into something unique."

"There's something magical about poetry, you know? It's like each word is a brushstroke, and the poem itself is a painting. And just like a painting, a good poem can transport you to another world entirely."

"Go on."

"It's about the emotions words evoke, the way they make you feel. A poem can capture the essence of a moment in time, or it can express a feeling that's so deep and profound that words alone could never do it justice."

I lean back in my wooden chair, a dreamy look in his eyes.

"I think poetry has the power to change the world, you know? To connect people on a level that's deeper than language or culture. It's like a universal language, one that speaks to the soul."

She nods in agreement, does she actually understand?

Maybe, she sees the beauty of poetry too.