there
is
a
beauty
in
the
wretched.
in
the
damned.
and
there
is
a
beauty
in you
my love.
that
i
will
never
fully grasp
in
these
sloppy odes.
there
is
a
beauty
in
the
wretched.
in
the
damned.
and
there
is
a
beauty
in you
my love.
that
i
will
never
fully grasp
in
these
sloppy odes.
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
sometimes I feel all I have written is to process the unprocessed emotions and feelings. When I am centred and content, I usually have noting to write. Maybe the distance between you and reaching her made you pouring out your being to fill the void?
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this is less comment than a poem itself. painted with truth
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Mike, that is how I feel when I write about my love for my son’s. There seems to be no way to get close enough to what I feel and want to say about them when describing what is in my heart.
Why is you muse so sad?
It is hard to read your words as of late.
Sorry.
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I am in a malaise, it happens i suppose.
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