So this poem book of 185 poems is the accumulation of my first Poem book, inclusive of the last seven years of poems. Based on a short true story, you see someone who took interest into my poems, a young girl at the Starbucks in red Bank, NJ, whose face I will always remember but name I cannot, I have to thank for the title of my second book here. She simply gave me the advice to title my poems for my next book, and hence my title years later was born.
Secondly, you see, there is a sort of secret about this book, to which you I can promise will never figure out exactly whom my poems are about. Some poems written about love have been inspired here and there about an occasion, or an occasional crush, but the one, well I cannot say the one who got away, its more like the chance I never had, the majority of my poems are about her. She is sort of like the Voldemort in my story, ripped and torn away before anything was able to be, and then left with no closure. you see my Bipolar will always revert to her, and in the height of my Mania lots of poems are derived from this source. You may think you know, but only a select few do. I promise you can ask, but I will never tell you. I came close to reaching out to her this year, to which I know for the better I must keep my distance, even though she is so close, yet feels like worlds away. I came very close to being Hospitalized this late December of 2024, for the seventh time in my life due to my Schizoaffective, Manic Bipolar Disorder. you must Understand my favorite Japanese proverb is Fall Seven Times, Stand up Eight, and I know that this Seventh Time I was able to break myself out of the Height of my Mania because thoughts of her Started to Intervene with great deception of our reuniting. I did the right things and was able to get a Medication change and come back to my senses and back to reality, irrational thoughts subsiding. Thus including not having a hospital stay, and the four thousand dollar bill that comes with it. You see, I think it to be true that I don't believe my mind ever had closure, I wonder at times if hers did either, or if she had questions for me as well. All I know is that the only ones who would know of whom I speak of, Either won't buy or read my poem book, so all hopes lie in that one day she will come across my book and fall into her lap in this everything Happens for a Reason Universe. If she wishes to simply have a conversation, twenty years later I would welcome IT. Until then, I will continue to wait for the right one to come along, but it goes without saying that a great deal of pain, sorrow, Joy, and wonderful poems have all come from this experience, I Only had wished that she knew. I won't give up hope even that after 37 years of life the right one is still out there for me, past or present