Why is it when we seek and search for love we only get a glimpse of the beauty in the beginning of the cycle, which seems not to last to long upon the journey and travel of our heart and soul only to have it leave us, even more confuse even more undecided of what love is suppose to be in real life of the mind and heart and soul.
For have you ever wondered down the mere stairways of your heart and mind why...
Caught in that weak moment a decade beyond the split infiltrating my world this past January a cryptic message hiding content but asking to meet
I wavered in thought as to what I should do always believing that my sacrifice was unjustified but being the mature-minded I took all my savings to excise you from my life and carried on with the residual belief that without provocation I somehow deserved to be humiliated and lied about and publically mocked
Written with precision her poetry is far from prison - no yearning masses camped in homes suffering horribly executed poems forced to endure the badly grammered hammered with needless words buffering while under house arrest; slammered Incarcerated in unpoetic hells Jailed birds in private cells praying to be liberated on an aptly dated day The 5th of November! Remember! Remember! Remember her name