She asked me to write
not to her
but for her
which is a little egotistical
but kind of endearing
since it was clear
she wanted me to think of her.

So I tried to
but I knew very little
on the subject of she
and while I was happy to study up
I was not yet prepared
for the assignment at hand.

I tried to recycle
some poetry from the last girl
since she no longer had use for it
but that smacked of sociopathy
which is probably not the way to pronounce it
but captured the spirit
perfectly.

Which is about when it hit me.
The spirit is what this girl deserved
if not original content
from the bard who is me
and I could collect the soul of inspiration
that she elicited from me.

I could provide her
the words that best represented her
or rather
the Beatles could
with some devil in her heart
or twist and shout
and maybe a little bit of the rollover.

That ought to keep her satisfied, eh?