She wanted a love poem. He wasn’t the greatest at picking up signals, but clearly, she was a little frustrated that she’d been dating a poet this long, and he’d not written anything for her.
So, he cleared some time, sat down with his favorite pen and a notebook, and thought about her.
He thought about her looks, her smile, her mind, her view of life, everything about her that made her her.
He stared at that blank page for hours, trying to work out how to express his feelings.
In the end, he just dumped her to save face.