A Kind of Cry

I can hear my neighbor weeping
through our thin walls. 
It sounds like a heartbreak-cry.
It doesn't sound like a I-lost-my-job-cry
Or a I-can't-believe-my-best-friend-betrayed-me-cry.
It sounds like a someone-I-loved-doesn't-love-me-back cry--
simply a Heartbreak.

I know that cry.  I know it well.

Major Step

The dance continues.   A year ago, my agent read 100 pages, which he said needed some major work.  He asked for revisions and instructed me to finish the novel.  I did that recently.  The last five months have been pretty bare for me as I tried to finish this novel.  In other words, I stayed home most nights and weekends so I can have the time to write.  This is the writer's life.  Face to the computer. 

There is nothing romantic about it.  This is fucking work.