Mrs. Van Wyhe gave me
My first sketchbook...

First, I would have him compassionate,
Intelligent, looking for incite, and quiet...

I like watching the moon,
He fills my heart with fire...

As I look in the mirror I see Tears
Brought from Chaos...

Sometimes I just want to get away
Just be alone with no uncertainties...

As I struggled, like I often do when...
Writing any kind of literature...

Mother never forgave herself
For not taking his keys from him...

1 The Hurt
All evening she cried, then...

Throughout what logic helped a man
Hopeless, without reason, dig in the sand...

I regret…
The things that I never said to you...

I met an angel.
He had something else...

Something not made “obvious”
But since I refer to you...