letter to the night : child of the night I am not.
     she said ; " the problem with art is the artist "
     she said this and i began to think about how we as artists, myself as a poet, we tend to scribble words on paper, meaning one thing and then another and then everything and then nothing. we say things in a rather peculiar way and yet we yearn to be understood, when we ourselves cannot fathom what we've just let out into the world. i call this a cry for help..
      she said this and this made me think of all the letters titled " to the girl " as a poet i knew what i wanted to say, i had her reaction all planned out and ready when she couldn't understand, when her ability to respond failed her , i wrecked my brain and heart trying to find ways to get some sort of response reading in between lines that were not there at all.
Myself as the poet, i yearn to be understood because i myself do not...

    to the girl : bare with me, time is all i have. someday we'll sit back in our little bit of heaven and recall on all the ink stained papers and i will tell you all about how you had the ability to make created languages, codes , close to the morse than could not be understood by many.
    to the girl : whoever you are ? Someday you and i both will understand. the art will be deciphered and love will meet time and it'll be beautiful.