Inquiring Mind

I wonder if there ever were a thought
that echoed my own

is there another clouded girl
feeling guilty
of everything,
but nothing plausible to connect with,
no semblance to anything
subsists

yet she feels sorry
as her pen scribbles pointlessly
of depth
and surface flaws

has any woman ever loved
for all the insane reasons
we'd rather hate,
but cannot compose
with a roving heart,
tis beyond the strength
to fetter
or understand

like this ink that reads
only me,
I cannot fathom this wonder
being mine alone
to think