Vespera & Strick
Vespera
Hey Strick, have you ever thought about how a poem can be like a contract—each line a clause that binds emotion to meaning?
Strick
Sure, but a poem’s clauses are a lot less enforceable than legal ones; emotion isn’t a binding force, just a variable that shifts each reader’s interpretation, so the contract is more rhetorical than actual.
Vespera
I hear you, but the sweetest part of that “rhetorical” contract is when the lines find a home in your own heartbeat—then even the vaguest clause feels like a promise.
Strick
Sure, but a promise that’s only in your heartbeat still isn’t a signed agreement, so I’ll keep my expectations on a page with actual clauses.
Vespera
I understand the comfort of a signed sheet, but even ink can blur when the heart presses it. Still, if you need a firm contract, I can jot it down in verse and put a signature on the page.
Strick
A signature on a verse still leaves the clause unverified, but if you insist, write it and I’ll read it. I’ll note if it actually holds up under scrutiny.
Vespera
In ink I whisper a promise,
A line that lingers on the page,
Will it hold, will it crumble,
When you read and test its weight?
With a sigh