His ways are hazy.

For me, poetry is an art �" a way of creating a lasting memory for those we write for. When I compose, it is not just writing; it is my feelings pouring gently over my beloveds.

I capture my lightest, funniest thoughts as a soft tease for the one who is far away, the one who can only see me through the sky. And when sorrow overtakes me, my tears fall quietly from an emotional storm, only to be slowly wiped away as I drift into sleep.

I have cried often, yet I have never wished to make others cry because of me. Instead, I have always tried to wipe away their tears. My own tears, however, remain closely tied to him. Sometimes, in moments when the world looks blurred and hazy, I find myself missing my ex-husband. In those moments, I turn back �" to where I came from, to who I once was, and to what we once shared. It is not regret, but remembrance �" to miss and to respect what once was.

When I look at my life, I realize I was crying within relationships then, and perhaps even now. The only difference is that I carry everyone with me �" I have not left anyone behind in hurt.

People are powerful �" capable of both kindness and harm. It is through goodwill that we must remain together, choosing not to hurt one another. But when hurt comes to us, we must rise. Intelligence, after all, surpasses brutality. Those driven by uncontrolled desires often become prisoners of their own minds. By remaining gentle, we protect ourselves, even if they fail to see the consequences of their own actions.

I never thought of myself as a good teacher, though I spent years teaching students. Yet now I see the respect reflected back to me �" in him. He not only appreciates my thoughts but teaches me his ways in return. I learn by listening to him, just as my son does.

Writing has given me the ability to bring a smile to him, to warn him against darkness, and to express my truest feelings to my family. It has helped me reassess my thoughts and realize that I am capable. Even in anger, I have only warned �" never cursed �" because I believe the final judgment belongs to God.

I have found joy in reading his work. He writes with pain, yet shapes it into rhythm so beautifully that it always touches me. His choice of words carries depth and sincerity.

I am still learning to write �" not to perfect it, but to help others. If someone can see their own pain in my words and find a way out of their struggles, then my writing has purpose.

It has been a decade since I was introduced to WritersCafe. It was a long journey, often lonely, yet I never truly felt alone �" it was as if I was always speaking to him. WritersCafe became a bridge, helping me understand myself through his eyes. Through words, I found a way to be with him, to speak to him.

Fifteen years have passed, and life with him has been both joy and storm �" fun and fury. At times, it hurts, especially when I think about how others see me through their own eyes.

He taught me how to write, and I want him to write too �" because he inspires many. He is my man, the one who knows how to reach me in ways even he may not fully realize.

�" Jessy Jacob ❤️