The Beginning - Elusive Connections

A poet I am not,
Rhyming is not my forte,
But this fateful day will begin my journey,
In expressing myself, with thoughts varied and assorted

Its twilight on a Sunday,
The sun’s past its prime for the day,
For the first time ever I feel poetic,
Poetic for I feel pain

I feel drawn to the written word and prose,
In moments of introspection and sorrow,
Usually Sunday afternoons,
That’s today, not yesterday or tomorrow

I wish I could make time stand still,
So I could continue deeper in self-examination,
But the clock keeps ticking, the mundane life returns,
And I jump head straight into daily tribulations

I feel inspired to write, with clarity of thought,
Instead of the usual chaos of my mind, from stop to stop.

I thought I was over it,
A week of mourning should have been enough,
But now I realize I never completed due process,
It hurts, it stings, its tough

There were lessons to be learnt,
That’s why the chapter resumed,
But its just to led to more questions,
Resumed the search, more confusion.

Not one mention of me in her electronic diary,
Those were 9 weeks of hope and joy,
I never evaluated what it meant to me,
Until it was time to say goodbye

My first true heartbreak,
The closest I had ever been,
No matter how one-sided it now feels

Reading her thoughts make me wonder,
I never delved deeper into her mind,
The rhythms of our lives were a factor,
This search feels so unkind

It meant to me,
What it didn’t mean to her,
Can my mind just leave with its side of the story?
Is that true, is that fair?

Nice but not right,
So what if I feel the same way,
She was a part of my journey,
As I was hers

I challenge myself to not be bitter,
But instead to open up further,
Life has much I haven't seen yet,
Life, love, laughter

We promised a farewell drink,
Somehow I feel uneasy,
I can’t rhyme with those lines,
Perhaps I should ask Young Jeezy

We spend all our time,
Physically priming and prepping,
The mind is what needs work,
Not cardio, not stepping

Somewhere in my daily routine,
I lose touch with my deepest thoughts and feelings,
Though reaching them is so taxing,
They help the emotional healing

Where do I go from here,
In hours I’ll be back on the road searching,
These weekend, Sunday evening thoughts,
Will hide behind walls again, waiting, watching, lurking.

I realize I’m a hopeless romantic,
Searching for what may not exist,
I think I know what it feels like,
A feel-good blow to the chest, with your fist.