There are songs about love
And songs about it's loss.
A wise man once said
“Music is there for when words fail us.”
When our emotions clash and rage and burn
Or simply flutter about
In Beautiful Chaos.

But what to do with doubt?
There are no songs about lacking.
Stepping each step, knowing that irrationality
Hides in every corner.
You are worried for yourself.
You ask yourself "Will I?"
You ask yourself "Why Not?"
You ask yourself all,
But answer none.

Our minds are funny that way.
We can have full knowledge that we worry
About things that are pointless.
Things so unlikely that the morbid hilarity of our consideration
Of the possibilities of such things
Should be enough to stop us from believing them.

There are songs about love,
And songs about it's loss.
A wise man once said
“Music is there for when words fail us.”
But I lack burning emotions.
And thus I lack music.
And naught but words remain.

There are songs about love,
And songs about it's loss.
But there are no songs of
The worry of
Never finding it.

you love him
you love his smooth hands and his rough cheek
you love your hands in his denim shirt
and the cinematography of you together
everything else is an afterthought

the knife in his eyes that is not always pointed at you
but when it is
you kiss the fist that rattles plates
the lips that wrap around clenched teeth
melt him

fail to understand his poison tipped arrows
that are aimed at the mother who threw bottles
if he could only pick one more fight it'd be with his father
you kiss him when he knocks his brother's teeth out

he leaves in the morning for coffee and comes back a day later
welcome him with open arms and abundant questions
he will be a tower of irritation and concrete
he will point fingers that will curl into fists
but they are not fists for you
they are for the devils that dance within him
and behind his wild eyes
and in his childhood home

you will not be fooled
he loves you
you know by every sweetheart and the lips on your forehead and the way he smells in between the sheets each night

he leaves
he comes back
purple flowers that bloom around his eyes are the bouquets he brings home for you
the front porch sags when he puts his hands in his pockets
his face buried in your chest
on nights when the lamp swings a little too low
and his body is wracked with sobbing and shoulders shaking

he mourns the gentle temper he never had
he mourns what he would be like without you
he mourns what you would be like without him
this is how he loves you

your hands in his hair easing soothing shh shh
you are the mother who left
you are better than every last ex-girlfriend
for reasons he will be happy to name
this is how you love him

you came because you are drawn to the shipwrecks
but you stayed in the water for him
ancient child
furious soul
you salt his wounds
and then you clean them
this is how you love him

How do you tell someone you love
that you love them so much
thats you can't even tell them
how much you love them?

Thousands of miles
And four hours away
Somebody stopped and watched you playing your music
And said,
"Thank you for smiling."
And I finally discovered
What I should have said to you
The moment I first met you.

All the hurting I do
Wondering and worrying
If I'll ever feel the warmth of your sunlight again,
It's all about that,
It's all
Because I am just afraid
You'll never smile at me again.
It doesn't make sense,
It's not explainable.
It's a happiness I have never felt before
And do not expect
To feel very often in my turbulent life.
It is a joy that stops the mind,
Save for one thought:
Don't
Go.
It's what that man saw
Walking by.

Maybe that man is sad.
Maybe his life has him down,
And he hates his job,
Or he is fighting with his wife,
Or his dog just died.
Or maybe it's even worse.
Maybe that man
Has just had the worst years of his life
Drag him helpless behind them
To hit the ground hollow over and over
Like a tin can dangling from a dingy car bumper on the highway.
Maybe he has only just
Stood up again.
You don't know.
How brilliant, you don't know!
Because he could be any of those things,
But you
Made him smile.
You
Gave him hope.
You
Had such an effect on him
With just your smile
That he stopped,
And thanked you.

I wish I had done that when I first saw your face.

Maybe today
You only made that man's good day
A little better.
Or maybe today
Your smile
Saved his **** life.
You have no idea.
That's the point.
I know what that man saw.
I envy him painfully.
I know how it feels
To be smiled at
By you.
All the poems I've written you,
All the nights I've spent sleepless
Afraid to lose the little tiny moment of you I got,
All the time I've set aside for you,
That's why.
I want to thank you
For smiling at me.
If everything from here on in my life
Crumbles like wet chalk
And I lose any chance I might have
To thank you otherwise,
I consider it worth it.
I consider your smile
Worth all of it.

It's impossible to know a person
Really, truly know them
Until you have a conversation at 2AM
Right before you fall asleep
The most human you can be,
There's no wrong or right
Just words filling the silence
Let me see your insecurities,
Your dreams,
Tell me things about you
That I wouldn't know
Remind me I'm not the only person
With problems and that
No one's exempt from suffering
I want to hear it all
Your heart and mind
There's no better time
For a lobotomy
No better time
To not be alone
I'm glad we got to philosophize
Because you don't really, truly
Know someone
Until you converse at 2AM
And it was a pleasure to meet
2AM you

You are born alone, and you will die alone.
What determines your level of suffering
Is whether or not you feel that.

Everybody lies, darling.
You've just gotta choose who is worth playing the fool for.

It is far easier to love someone all alone than to try to get them to receive it.
It is also much less fulfilling.
I try never to rest, never to retreat into myself
And let the love become more important than the giving of it to the person it's for,
But... I understand people who worship at churches.
They are not always worshiping God.
They are simply loving in the safest way possible.
They are writing love letters
On their pressed palms
To someone who can never, ever read them,
And what a relief it must be to know that.
What a comfort it must be to give love to an idea,
And so never have it handed back to you,
Unused, unwanted,
Like an unopened love letter with the postage still stuck on the envelope.

Oh, yes, I was in love with you.
I hadn't noticed,
I didn't know.
Someone else burned in my sky like the sun and blinded me,
But, still, quietly, you were there.
You were different.

I think I loved you because you smirked at me.
Because you cried to me.
I loved your mischief,
Your fragility.
I was mesmerized by your rawness, the tortured look deep in your eyes that made me want to hold you,
And captivated by your wit, and your playfulness, so jarringly out of sync
With your shattered-mirror soul.
You were so beautiful
And when I'd catch myself thinking it
I don't know how I explained my love away.
You could draw me in,
Hypnotize me
With your paradoxes-

You were made of glass, but you had the entrancing audacity
To dance anyway

And yes, I see now
That of course I was in love with you.