M.S. Capulet it's time to be honest with my self
time to wash my chest out
come clean about all I've really felt
This isn't perfect, isn't close,
but neither was the romance that Speare wrote
feel like a fairytale frog with words stuck in my throat
been trying to speak what i feel but so far only just croak
                    Let me be your romeo...

Dove, you remind me what it's like to fall in love
at midnight like a Montague
you make me want to
throw pebbles at your window
come over late on nights like this when i don't know
because you would't say and you fell asleep
(you thought this might just be a summer thing, some sort of fling)
But I'd do almost anything
to keep you Juliet
no regret, no joke
         I don't think there ever were words big enough for this hope. . .

And the two lovers they were starcrossed
just like my fingers when we started "us"
that night we stargazed but i guess I'm just
afraid we'll shatter into stardust
he climbed but
she would have jumped if he asked
that's us
we're trying to get over our past. . .

I'm not gonna pretend i don't think about the past
that i don't sometimes wish it, but that's just it
we've got this chance and i'm not gonna miss it
we've got this time and i'm not gonna twist it around
I've got an ugly purple scar across my heart, will you kiss it now?
It's been far too long trying to get this off my chest
but let's write our own tragedy,
       hell, romance is a mess, miss. . .

Helpless to reject you when you call for help
pick up because i'm powerless to do anything else
beg for some kind of insight into this insanity
manage to hold my breathing half way steadily
speak in calm tones, gentle, to console
you're crying - and you have no way of knowing
what that still does to me (it cuts me)
The whole time i call myself helping, offering an ear, a shoulder
something to hold onto when your world is blown apart-
this tightness in my chest, a consistent catch in my breath
an ache, a longing, not something i can explain
but it has words of it's own - and i know what it would say
"i still love you, I'm sorry"
this conversatuion serves to make me smile and mar me
unspeakably

(click.)
(dial tone. . .)

I still love you, I'm sorry
screamed at the top of breathless lungs
you tear away from me and all i want is to touch you
open the door and in an instant slam it behind you
I recoil in spasms, near madness
so overtaken with emotion that i am shaken
into violent paroxysms
I frightened the hell out of you i think
kicking, slamming my body into the door
through the empty space where only seconds before
you sat
and
I watched you walk away
(I wish i didnt know you went to cry in the bathroom...)
and when you're gone, in silence, after the storm, i still do
I'm sorry, but i still love you

I'll whisper
whisper when the wind picks up
I still love you, I'm sorry

I never have been good at reading lips
but I hope this is something we don't share
as you stand there
windblown hair,
with nothing on your face
I hope you understand
this time I'm going, I have no choice
life has made it for me
I'd take you with me if i could
and so I'm sorry
I'll whisper
whisper when the wind dies down
I still love you, I'm sorry

you might be clever, but you can never,
come close to me, ever,
you are silk and I am leather.

Eviscerate, obliterate, break
and it's too late
wounds can be stitched up
But the edges never line up quite the same