I could never fall in love with a writer,
Because I'd treat life like a game.

I write
And you write
And we'll see who writes better.

I could never fall in love with a writer,
Because it would make the hard times harder.

I cry
And you sigh,
Let's pray life doesn't leave us bitter.

I could never fall in love with a writer,
Because we'd both be metaphor-fighters.

I'll swing a fist,
You'll block, take the hit,
And we'll tumble down the stairs of regret.

I could never fall in love with a writer,
Because we would be wonderfully mad.

I'll buy the paint,
You buy the brushes,
Let's paint the town red.

I could never fall in love with a writer,
Because he would remind me of me.

I could never fall in love
With anyone so vain
And so impatient
And so selfish
And so conceited
To claim they could never
Fall in love with a writer.

If you go to the dictionary,
Flip to the letter L,
Find the word Lovely,
It'll probably be defined as
"Charmingly beautiful,
Beauty that appeals
To mind and eye."

But to me,
Lovely means all that
And more.

Lovely means
Being love,
Even when it means
Getting your hands *****
And feeling unbeautiful.

Lovely means
Getting up at 12:00 am
To change ***** diapers
Or calm someone down
After night terrors-
Because even if what you're doing
Isn't very lovely,
But you do it out of love,
That's when you are most lovely.

Lovely means washing the feet
Of those you hate-
Doing it with a smile
On your face-
And that's when you look
Most lovely.

Lovely is
Washing laundry
For the one thousandth time,
And cooking supper for your family,
Even when you're all cooked-out.

Lovely is
Giving birth
To the earth's Savior
In a *****, rotten, ugly-lovely stable
On a cold night.

Lovely is
Being beaten
With a cat of nine tails whip,
Hanging on the cross,
Bloodied brow,
Grieving heart.

Lovely is sacrifice,
And pain
And bleeding forgiveness
And scars of heartache
From what some would call
"Loving too much"
But if you live lovely,
You know you can never
Love too much.

Lovely is more
Than lipstick
And blush,
And fluttering your eyes
And faking the right smile.

Lovely is
Getting hands *****
And loving until
You don't think you can,
And then loving with all you have
And more.

Lovely is
More than being beautiful,
Lovely is living life
Beautifully,
Even when it means
Being unbeautiful.

I'm doing fine.
(What I won't say is)
I hope you're doing well.
(Everyday I cry.)

I went to the doctor yesterday
(I didn't need him to tell me)
He said everything looked fine.
(That my heart was breaking.)

I went to the Post Office
(The guy who works there)
And mailed a letter
(Still remembers when you worked here)
To anywhere
(And a brown-haired girl came in)
For the second time
(And wanted to mail a letter to anywhere.)

He eyed the smudged ink,
(It's hard to write)
Felt the wet spots,
(When you're busy crying)
And mailed it.
(It's the letter you'll never read.)

I don't remember exactly what it said
(I was half-asleep)
But the next morning I woke up
(And full of regrets)
With ink on my hands
(But there were words on my heart)
And a letter sitting beside me.

Since you won't read it
(I hope you never see it.)
I guess I'll just let my pen tell the paper
(And I pray you never read it.)
That my heart is breaking
(But pain doesn't change)
And my mind is racing
(The fact that I'm happy me & you was us.)
Trying to keep up with where you could be.
(Even if it was only a little while.)

Hello.
Salut.

Goodbye.
Au revoir.

No matter the language
They are both the same.

Hello is my heart
Waking
And goodbye is it
Breaking.

Sticks and stones
May break my bones,
But words will
Leave me dying.

Sticks and stones
May tear me down
But words will
Tear me up.

Sticks and stones
May ****** and bruise me
And everyone asks "What's wrong?"
But words leave me looking fine
And everyone expects me to act
Like I'm always alright.

Sticks and stones
May kindle my fire,
But words will put it out.

Sticks and stones,
Fire and ash,
Daggers and swords-
These things I do not fear.
But leave me alone
In the presence of words-
And terrifying things you'll hear.

Sticks and stones
May break my bones,
But words will break my heart.

Sticks and stones
May break my body
But words will crush my soul.

Sticks and stones
To be used for good
Can render
Warmth
And homes
And smiles.


Words to be used for good
Can change this very world
And change your very heart.

“They say love is blind,
And I think that’s true,
Because sometimes
Love makes you blind
To your beloved’s flaws.

But I think love
Has 20/20 vision,
Because it means
You see someone’s flaws
As something beautiful-
Because mama loves the fact
That daddy has too-big feet,
And daddy loves that
He has to bend down 12 inches
To give mama a kiss.

I think love is tone-deaf,
Because even though daddy can’t sing,
Mama loves to hear him try.

I think love hears every tone
And every sound in between,
Because daddy can tell mama’s mood
Just by how she sighs.

I think love is passionate and crazy
And never makes sense,
Because my parents moved
Five hundred and forty-two miles away
Two weeks after they said “I do.”

I think love is simple and stubborn
And level-headed,
Because Daddy proposed in a car-
Didn’t even pull off to the side of the road
Or get down on one knee-
He just pulled out the ring.

I think love is paradoxical,
Highly illogical,
As painful as a bullet-wound,
As breath-taking as a lady in red,
And as obvious as a wedding ring.

I think love is
Cleaning the kitchen
To make new messes,
And sewing new buttons
On old blue jeans.

Love is
“I do”
& “I did”
“I’m sorry”
“Please forgive me”
& “keeping no record of wrongs.”

Love is ***** dishes in the sink,
And their song coming on,
His hands slide around her waist,
And she turns around and
They dance.

Love doesn’t always make sense,
But it doesn’t always have to,
Because love is a walking contradiction,
And mama and daddy contradict best.”