Undecidedly Untitled

When you write a poem
without a title
It's similar to a friendly smile
You share a laugh
and a conversation
But remain unsure of the invitation
She's pretty,
should you ask her name?
She seems to delight in this flirtatious game.

You twiddle your thumbs in hope of inspiration
The drink that you sip ages past fermentation

Your mind has been racing,
“Isn't this dull?”
“How does she remain through this endless lull?”

Yet you press on for the answer you've sought.
And you pray,
by the end,
it won't all be for naught.
You crack a few jokes
to work up your courage
Victoriously throwing your doubt into storage.
You ask her her name,
and she does the same

Your nerves are in a rile.

Your heart jumps a mile.

Her name could not be a more perfect sound
You cannot comprehend this simple joy that you've found

...Now,
maybe,
after this,
you'll feel that you have won.

The battle may be over, but the war has just begun.