it was a crime
she loved, another woman's man.

she stared all day out of the window, to see them take a stroll
she saw him with another woman, and couldn't learn to control
her heart was stabbed a hundred times but a smile ran across her face
he would look at her inside the window but could never make a guess.

she cried out loud and cried out deep, and all she could do was to weep
and neither could she stay awake, nor could she ever sleep.

his woman was filled with disregard, disrespect and despise
and it would as well be hard for him but thought that won't be wise
she cut his name on her heart, her body, and her soul
she made sure he would never know the pain she had to hold
he told her to let it go and look for a new start
but she had known that only he would always rule her heart.

she prayed for him and looked away with only him in mind
what once took them years to put in place, did so easily unwind.

she burns herself in agony,
in love and in shame
she knows it well, he would listen someday
but she will never tell.

she loves him wild and loves him mad, like a wounded bird ever can
but all she will do is stare at him, he is, another woman's man.

it seems different nowadays
a different spirit altogether
away from the escapes
and away from the trotting
away from it all
that once
used to make all the difference

is that why it is so different altogether
those things that make no difference any more?
have they hidden themselves somewhere in the clouds?
i hope it stays different forever
so long as the clouds never rain.

forever is a big word though, ponderous
and i realize with my eyes closed
that it can't be different forever
i open my eyes, look at you
you still have your eyes closed
realize a moment later again
that it can't be different forever.

but may be this split second gap between us
is what will always be the same.
and well if it does, then
i hope it will stay different.
different for always.
i look at you
you nod after a moment.

I'm a rambler.
When I talk about what's on my mind, it's like I can't stop sometimes.
And even when my mouth stops, my mind doesn't.
I'm always thinking about something, and there are very few rare moments when I'm not.

My mind also likes to jump from one thing to the next, so sometimes what I think and say are completely out of order.
This makes retelling of stories difficult at times, and it also makes writing down thoughts very difficult as well.

I have been trying to be better about sticking to things, such as writing poems and writing down things that have happened to me as recollections of a time I may forget one day.

I think I worry too much though.
I worry too much about if I will be relaying my message the way that I want it to be perceived.
I want to make sure that I make sense to others and not just myself, and that I am perceived that way.

There is that **** anxiety again.

One of my therapists once old me that it would be good for me to stick to a routine and have a foundation to stand on in my life.
The funny thing was that I always feel like It's impossible for me to have that foundation, and I also don't necessarily make it easy for myself either.

It's very rare that I finish something completely that I started solely for myself.
It's also very rare that I feel whole heartedly confident in something I'm doing, even if I appear to have the confidence thing down on the outside.

And I guess that's what life is really.
It's just twists and turns that you do or don't see coming, and you have to figure out how to handle them for yourself.

So I'm trying to be better.
I'm going to keep going with this.
I may not be consistent now, but in the long hall, I believe I can do it.

I can finally have a concrete foundation that will stay firm for me.

I will stick to it.

Altered my ego,
Ordered some self worth to go
Dabbing the dark circles of deceit
And a rosy blush for instant glow.