Yeah.

I'm going to read a poem called Quiet Eyes, and it is a concert crush informal formal sonnet.

I fell in love with you again last night, standing next to each other at the show.

I wanted to talk with you, but not quite knowing what to say, I watched you go up on stage to play, moved by that soft way you sing such sad songs on whispering lips, embracing the heartache your quiet eyes convey, leg lifted, not knowing so- not letting sorrow eclipse this moment.

And though we never met, stories of us together formed in my mind.

And while this crush lived out its life, your words yet remain, that to be free and unconfined, both hands must be open, not clenched, to know that keeping contact requires letting go.

Right

... iambic pentameter, but, but also, um, caring less about the, um, or focusing less on the, on the, um, on where the, um, the, the, the emphasis was, uh-