O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

i always thought
you were thru traffic
that you were just jet lag
background noise
the kiss in the rain
i've never had
but what if you aren't?
what if this
was the thousandth time
i have loved you?
what if this is just a fresh coat of paint?
what if god
keeps a handkerchief
soaked in the day we met
next to his bed?
maybe theres a reason
i reach for no one in bed
the way i would
if someone used to be there
you know, they say
the road behind us
is littered with things
we couldn't hold onto
i wonder how many times
you've slipped through my hands
like hour glass sand
do you know
how much erosion you've caused?
i heard cupid
stopped keeping count
of how many times
we came together
just to come apart again
maybe it was just a rumor
it makes me think
about how many times
i've almost had you
like if all this talk
about history repeating itself
endlessly replaying is true
i wonder how many times
things have happened already
like the time
i tried talking you
into loving me back
back fired
or the time i could have sworn
jesus & lazarus were playing chess
with my heartbeat
but it was only you smiling
how many times
have i tried to tell you
how many times
have you read this poem
how many times
have i tried not to meet you
in my dreams anymore
it's like sleep tries to warn
me of what's happening
before it does but
i keep having this dream
where i tell you bedtime stories
and each one
is a different way you die
and in every one
i can never save you
it's like you're this song
i have on repeat
and every time it starts over
i forget the words
it's like you picked up the book entitled "us"
and the back cover
said you'd leave
so you never bothered reading it
tell me you aren't
going back in that bookstore
just to do it again
or will you tell me tomorrow?
or is this the time
you don't say anything at all?
if this has all happened before
if we call it quits
before we begin
again
from the beginning
i just want to ask you
to be my fire
because i am tired
of these old lives
and i'd like to see them
burn

Let me just lay here
and count the raindrops
they remind me of tears
that never stopped
running down the window pane
why do we run if we've already lost?
I've never felt that much pain
or paid a higher cost
to loose a love like a missing sock
now I'm oddly paired
and out of luck
oh how I despaired
and buried my head
hoping the wind would carry the sand
no longer to be wed
no reason to wear the band
a reminder cast in solid gold
a useless trinket
an empty hole
a broken promise
has passed her lips
no granted wish
will ever be his
all that's left is an odd sock
and a broken heart
is what she took.

“Maybe if my legs were slim,
and my lips rose-pink,
and my hair like silk,
and my hands white petals,
you would love me more.
Maybe if I could sing,
and dance,
and capture people with my
star-like smile,
you would look at me more closely.
Maybe if my grades
never saw an 89,
you would smile,
and clap,
and tell me wonderful things.
Maybe if I spoke with
a silver tongue and
could convince with my
bright, 20/20 vision eyes,
you would hug me tighter.
Maybe if…”

Child, maybe, maybe, maybe.
But, really,
even if your legs were elephants,
your lips blue,
your hair seaweed,
and your hands sandpaper,
I would still love you.

Even if your voice
sounded like frogs at night,
and your feet
stepped all over mine,
and your mouth
was cut up from all of that fixing metal,
I would still love you.

Even if your grades
never saw an 89,
I would still love you
and tell you all sorts of wonderful things.
Even if your tongue was bound by chains,
and you tripped and stumbled over your vowels,
I would still love you.

Child, to them your legs may not be slim,
your lips may not be the shade of roses,
your hair may not be silk,
and all of those silly, fickle, worldly things, but
to me,
you are beautiful.
So beautiful.
I breathed out the stars for you.
I created for you.
I shed for you.
I bled for you.
I died for you.

Why
do you still doubt?
Why
do you still fear?
Why
do you still look at yourself
in a way
that makes you question what I have made?

Child, look at me.
Look.
at.
Me.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.