Poetry (Day 170): Autocorrect




I gave myself a makeover
before our first date.
A new set of clothes, a new hair-cut,
a memorised cheat-sheet of
interesting topics of conversation.

But I dripped sauce on the shirt before
you even arrived and, in any case,
it wasn’t as stylish as I though.
Then the wind made a mess of my hair.
And all the carefully considered
things to say were quickly forgotten
when you walked into view.

I wanted to impress you
but my life was set to autocorrect.

And when you came back for a second date
you said it was because I made you smile
and I’m a bit dorky, just like you.


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