The truth is
We are all running
From something

A daughter runs
From a father
Who never loved her

An alcoholic runs
From the cold harsh reality
Sobriety brings

A man runs
From the shattered
Foundations of a love
That didn't ever work

But if you're
Very lucky
I think that
One day
Maybe
Just maybe
You would be
Running
                   Towards
Something

I think it was the water
Coming in
And going out-
Never pausing
Never faltering
Just an endless
And perfect
Procession

Yes,
I believe it was the water
That drew us in.

It was cloudy
That day we took our
Swan dive
That day we made our
Cliff jump
And the waves
Just splashed and roared
Beneath us...
Above us:
Just daring us...

To plummet
Through that icey water;
Abandon
Both our fear of time
And our fear of ourselves

Oh it was certainly the water
That let me find her
And it was certainly the water
That gave her reason
To find me

Of course
It was also the water
That allowed me to betray her
And her to betray me

It was the water
That allowed us
To strip one another's humanity away
And leave each other trapped
Amidst that terribly consistent roaring
Forever

If I like you, you'll know it.
If I love you, I'll show it.
If we decide to plant that seed,
then we'll most definitely grow it.

If I'm offering my time & my mind & my thoughts,
Then like a firefly, I'm just waiting to be caught.

If I'm putting in the effort and I'm willing to commit,
I'll expect the same from you, through the thin & through the thick.

If you invest yourself in us and simply give me all you got,
I'll let down my walls and love again, and never ever stop.

If you catch me as I'm falling, and won't let me hit the ground,
I'll show you where chivalry's been hiding; I'll let you hear love's beautiful sound..

there once was a boy
with black hair
and blue eyes
he wrote about things..
things no one had seen
like eternal sleep
and imaginary dreams.
he lived in a world
where fun was non-existent
and colors
were quite distant.
the girls read his poems
and they laughed at them
because he wrote as if
they were his memories
but no one
had experienced eternal sleep
because death
had never happened
they all lived forever.

there once was a man
with black hair
and grey eyes
he wrote about things
things that people began to fear
like eternal sleep
and being cut ear to ear.
and being cut ear to ear.
he lived in a world
that was painted black
because colors
had no impact
on the town
that fell apart
by the boy
who wrote about his memories
who made eternal sleep
and killed the ones
who wanted to die
they no longer lived forever
and the boy named death
was just doing them a favor.

I stare at my mirror every day.
Every ******* day.
I smile into.
I shout obscenities at it.
I cry on my floor, desperate to avoid it.
Every ******* day, I walk past it, tell myself to take a single, quick glance.
One glance becomes an inquisition upon myself for all my flaws.
One glance ruins my entire day, brings me to tears.
My mirror hates me.

I stare into this woman every day.
Every ******* day.
I smile back at her.
I take her complaints in stride.
I search for her face when she hides, and listen to her cries beneath me.
Every ******* day, she gives me a double-take, as if to find something new.
The screams will always continue,
And the tears will fall, despite my efforts of honesty.
This woman hates me.