By Art
Date: 7 January 1999

She stole...

once again she entered into my heart.
As a thief in the night she stole my smile.  
She seemed to know when I would not be looking.  
I feared it would happen and tried to dismiss it as a fantasy 
but it was as real as a knife to the heart.  
She had taken a long journey to get to me 
and had been quiet as a mouse when she entered and stole my very essence. 
My reason for being and living.  
Puzzled I asked why only to not get a response.  
Alone you may ask?  Yes even in a crowd.  
Perhaps it is better this way  
so that I may not hate the world for what has happened to me.  
Denying myself the pleasure of living may be the only way to combat this.  
Perhaps I speak of things better left unsaid.  
Perhaps I tell too many truths.  
Perhaps I feel a stranger to myself as well as to you and the world.  
I quiet and listen to the beat of my heart.  
It thumps in joy and in sadness.  
All will be better come the dawn.