In the heat
, I find it hard to compose.
Sometimes I can almost see what it is she sees, when she looks at me. I don't quite get it
; I don't quite understand what it is she's marvelling over, or what it is that makes her smile.
Someone asked me the other day, what it was I had done to her. She's happy
, they said. You made her happy. How did you do that?
"You know, it's almost as if your journal has been following a pattern
, the last few months."
"Yeah. It's like, 'I am searching for beauty
, I am looking for hope
, I am horribly depressed
"I think I liked your older stuff better."