I'm tired of music being about you
Every note sings as images run through my head like a projector I can't shut off
I got to thinking, (I've always been thinking),
But I got to thinking and here goes:
The difference between me and a dog is that I know you'll never come back

"I love you" while you see them hungry should mean you feed them
"I love you" while you see them thirsty should mean you give them to drink
"I love you" when you see them naked should mean you clothe them
"I love you" in the midst of all this need does not say,
"I love your hunger, I love your thirst, I love your nakedness."
It says, "I love you, and because of that,
"I hate your hunger, I hate your thirst, I hate your nakedness."
Love does not mean leaving as be, love does not mean acceptance.
Love means feeding and giving water and clothing, love means fixing.
Love means love of you and thusly a non-acceptance of their faults,
a non-acceptance of their problems and their needs,
Love means that you must give, to sit down like the Good Samaritan
and feed the destitute,
give water to the man lying down,
and offer him your coat.
Love does not mean that you wander by the homeless man and think
to yourself how wonderful that person must be and how much you appreciate
their existence and how we cannot judge others
and how each soul is worth something.
In fact, each of these truths are true but if you believe them, you have
to take them to action. If you think someone is wonderful, I do not believe you
until you help them and show them your love.
If you do not try to help and fix someone,
I do not believe you appreciate their existence.
If you do not try and help the homeless man,
I do not believe you think he is not at fault for his homelessness.
If you do not take the lost and poor and needy under your arms,
I do not believe that you believe every soul is worth something.
Love means action. Love is not words.
If love is only words, it means nothing. It is not love.
However, we know what love is- we were given a definition.
"For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me."
Love does not leave hungry, thirsty, stranger, naked, sick, and lonely.
Love is not acceptance. Love fixes. Love does.

It never stops pouring over you.
I've noticed that, in spite of everyone calling you beautiful,
the feeling never rang true to you.

I met you a little over a year ago,
and I had never believed in love at first sight.
But when I saw you awkwardly smiling at nothing,
and heard you giggle at the sound of my jokes,
I couldn't help but feel like I had done something right.
I couldn't help but feel I saw something to love in those eyes.

It took me a little over half a year to build the courage to talk to you.
You see, it wasn't the distance of you being across the class that stopped me.
The devil on my shoulder pulled my strings until I was able to break free.
And I've never had a regret as strong as not talking to you sooner.
The sun suddenly shined brighter and the flowers bloomed in color.
My stutter stopped choking me and my confidence grew like you planted a magic bean in it.

However your view wasn't all sunshine and rainbows.
Your everyday battles were there as inevident as they were.
The naked eye could not see it as hard as they tried,
yet I found myself straining my eyes to see.
I couldn't give you my happiness.
My once clammy hands could not transfer my feelings of joy.

I came to find out about your last love.
How you came out of your shell and he rejected everything about you.
He rejected every aspect of you and left you alone.
My only job now is to be the mechanic, the tuner, the love of your life.
Your broken heartstrings, in disrepair needed artisan hands to fix them;
however, my amateur hands did their best.

Little do you know, you fixed me.
Our rainclouds vanished together in unison.
My simple vocabulary can't find the words to describe you, my love.

But please believe me when I say you're beautiful.

The eclipse lit corridors
of our grandoir stage.
Basking in your shadow
Calms the tempest
that brews within
the caffeine infused blood of mine.
Each word that spills from
the tip of your tongue
is like the first kiss
the Earth has with the Rain.
All of this reechoing sound
is meant to be dismantled
like a severed limb
from a Ken doll
and grains into lead bullets
that slightly brushes past
the curvatures of my exit wounds.
Because,
you do not love me.

Sadness envelops me
thinking "I miss you"
while the void surrounds
and expands between
you and me on the couch

Spring came and the flowers bloomed.
By then, hope was at an all time high.
When summer came, flames of light engulfed the ground.
By then hope was nigh.
Autumn came and went in an instant, leaving us with a new color palette of leaves.
There was a sense of renewal in the air, like having hope was alright.
As winter came, and the snow fell around,
My heart said I wasn't wrong to feel the way I did.
When spring came around again,
I realized,
The seasons will always return, but you never will.

I loved you more than you deserved. I spent far too many nights crying myself to sleep for it to be the right kind of love and you spent far too many nights questioning whether or not you loved me for it to be real. I don’t know much but I know love shouldn’t be worried that each time you walk out my door it’s the last or being too afraid to let go of your hand. I wanted more than anything in the world for it to be you but there are only so many times that I can fall asleep crying over you

Intelligence brings an arrogance
A desire to control
All that which surrounds us
Seems to impact on our soul

Intelligence brings the logic
A method to make sense
But often leaves its mark
When emotion tries to vent

Intelligence brings the knowledge
Emotion was here first
Love will over power all
This is not our curse.

i think it's hard to be friends or lovers with a writer. here's why:

1) you have to be careful of what you say, because the writers mostly take every word of yours literally and try to find the meaning in it. say what you mean, and mean what you say.

2) you also have to be wary of your grammar. those people, whom you know as writers, are grammar nazis. if they don't correct you in speech, fret not; it has been done in their word-mazed minds.

3) they will rant and rant and rant, because written words are what cool them off without having them to speak aloud. curse words, words which carry a tune, words which burn into brains... hear them out. do not be lazy to read their rants if they trust you with it. (they could rant about you TO YOU in the end.)

4) this is the hardest part. just remember that they will write about you no matter who you are or what you've done (or maybe you haven't even done anything). these people will write about how they see you. and most of the time, those writings are not so favorable. if you do not want to (literally) end up in their bad books, beware. their words may not last in ink forever but embedded into the hearts of those who read them.

happy reading and living with a reader!