Not sure if I'm being inspired by everything or just gettin' lazy, but this poem is inspired by a passage from Eve's Diary by Mark Twain* (see original text below poem) Thanks for reading my work! Dawn

How I loved every breath
taken in proximity to you.
How could it be that you thought
nothing of me?

I could not make it out,
and my mind became a circle
of questions turning back inward
on twisted self.

Oh, for a drink of your kindness!
How long I have thirsted
for restoration, small piece
of happiness.

I am always coming back
to ask it another way, hoping
you will offer just a morsel
of understanding.

This rain, mournful place that
has become my home, is first
and greatest sorrow, and, I pray,
believe it can be

source of second joy.


*From Eve’s Diary by Mark Twain:

“My first sorrow. Yesterday he avoided me and seemed to wish I would not talk to him. I could not believe it, and thought there was some mistake, for I loved to be with him, and loved to hear him talk, and so how could it be that he could feel unkind towards me when I had not done anything? But at last it seemed true , so I went away and sat lonely in the place where I first saw him in the morning that we were made… but now it was a mournful place, and every little thing spoke of him, and my heart was very sore. I did not know why very clearly, for it was a new feeling; I had not experienced it before, and it was all a mystery, and I could not make it out.
            But when night came I could not bear the lonesomeness, and went to the new shelter which he had built, to ask him what I had done that was wrong and how I could mend it and get back his kindness again; but he put me out in the rain, and it was my first sorrow.”