My Novel

Here I am again internalizing distrust, accepting infidelities after promising me--that I'm over with the "forgive seventy times seven" for the sake of a relationship. Love's pain is deceptive coming wrap in the disguise of a need. I run in the darkness of morn and the coolness of evening's spring...yet my intuition still says 'run' from the craziness of this proclivity of mine.

I write now in solace...as my chapter continues with "My Novel" which reads:


Words, all these words
Meant to explain – expound
Inviting you inside a place
Where thoughts are profound

Making sense of all these words
Transporting me in its penned unknown
Graphic under ambiguity’s will
Intriguing yet excites my senses own

Daring to explore the similarity of words
They seem so you --- so life
Ever present yet still not your words
Outlining joy and years of strife

So sad the years of making all these words
A comfort still found in its tears
Almost finish all these words
Borrowed and wrapped in all its fears