Maybe I've disappointed all the ones
Who claim to love me.
Maybe it didn't help and
I've dreamt this feeling.
But I can think.
And the world seems clearer.
And I am not so tired.
And I can write again.
But I've disappointed her.
But...
I can think.

I think that is worth the disappointment
That she will never even know she has.
I don't plan on telling her
That I can think again.
That writing is coming out smoothly.
She shouldn't know.
At least she shouldn't know why.
She shouldn't know that I started again.