Birth of a Poem

My heart and brain are like two old married couple. 

One minute they’re reminiscing 
about the first time they fell in love. 
And the next, 
they’re swearing like drunken sailors 
and threatening each other with divorce papers.

They usually do this for a solid 10 minutes 
and then it dies down with them bickering 
about how they regret the last twenty years 
together, and that true love is as much of a myth 
as time travel.

The funny thing is, they don’t believe any of it. 
Not even a single word. 
In fact, 
you couldn’t find a more perfect match even if 
you bought a box of them from a drugstore in heaven.

I guess its just some weird ritual all soul mates go through. 
Because afterward, they always give birth to a poem.