Beware: Stark honesty ahead.
I keep on saying I like men in general. I admit though the self-centeredness could get so appalling at times. All the males here basically wanted their egos to be constantly stroked. It’s tiring sometimes but I enjoy the patting most of the time. It’s what we women are good at.
My current apple of the eye, although generally a good man, is someone who seems to be basking in his social media fame over the attention he gets from very young ladies and, uh, girls. Imagining about it, considering his age, makes me go “Eew” but, you know, I need the inspiration and I won’t be able to write anything nor be productive if I dwell on such an unpleasant reality. (Of course my insecurity is apparent right this moment — what middle-aged woman doesn’t feel this way?) We are all flawed. And I am being judged no doubt too by the people I’ve interacted with here who’ve been surely disappointed by my foibles and mediocrity.
I’ll be totally honest in saying I’m glad to have found him and I like “loving” this poet cum librarian because he’s not really a mean person. His FB friends (duh, I looked at his profile) had expressed the man has got a golden heart — how refreshing, for a change. Because I’d had it with intellectuals who were frighteningly insulting and verbally abusive.
I also need this kind of distraction…badly. When I lie down to sleep at night, I remember the ones I’ve lost — especially the most recent one. I miss her despite the fact she didn’t love me. And I’m reminded of how I could have been a better daughter to her — which I chose not to be, because she had hurt me so much. I don’t have a golden heart, yeah…
I’m enjoying both the poetry readings and my piteous poetic attempts, to boot. I guess I’ll be staying in this realm for good. Reading and writing. With or without the men. Brokenhearted or not, I’ll find a way when the time comes my present “love” is not worth being my Muse anymore.
Anyway, these have been my sentiments and ponderings as of late.
Bohemian Sentiments 
I’ve never asked for what you cannot give. I gave you my heart with no expectations. But what I need is the love from your heart that will prevent you from taking me for granted and not treating me right. It doesn’t matter what form. Keeping you inside my heart has been enough. You as my inspiration has become a most-prized treasure. How could you accuse me of wanting something beyond friendship?
What should I write, my love, if you are going to deny me the expression over my zeal for the one thing I’ve come to cherish since I’ve met you.
My sweetest secret is love and in it I conceal the notes to the songs you’ve inspired.
I’m facing this glass wall from where I watch the rain pour down, washing down all my wisdom on love. Every drop bears the gravity of his absence. As if it knows what I’m about to survive. If the rains could only speak.