In the darkness of night
You stole my heart.

Four hours of constant conversation
Was all it took.
I didn't realize how much you stole.
Not until months later.

Another hour of constant conversation
And I began to realize.
You stole my heart
Piece be piece
Slowly, so slowly.

Some months later you made it clear.
Not only did you steal my heart,
You took my breath away.
After being broken for so long
You broke through the cage
And all my insecurities
To steal my most precious gift;
My broken, scarred heart.

It's been months since you broke into the vault;
You broke through my protection.
I lost my heart to you
But now i feel it breaking again.

You've stolen me
But you're breaking me now too.
I feel the cracks emerging.
How could I leave myself open for you to break in?
You've stolen me but I don't want to take it back.

I don't know how much of your heart I've stolen.
I wonder if you've realized
How much of me you've taken.
You consume my thoughts
Day and night.
But do I consume yours?

How much of your heart have I stolen?
How much of you actually cares about me?
Have you realized what you're doing?
Do you realize you're breaking me
Even while you're stealing me away?
I'm scared that I won't be able to fix this.
Not after all that's happened.

The beauty of life isn't captured in files nor profiles.
It's in a blink or a thought of a distant place.
It lies in emotions that reminice of a time not yet spent.
It is a few seconds in a multiple uncaptured frames.
It lies in the ignored existence of composure.
It influences the untapped recognitions of appreciation.

The beauty of life is not about me showing or telling.
It's only about a few thoughts that inspire ambitions.
A few dreams that elevate fantasies.

The beauty of life is about me in a second painting a picture of elegant brush strokes,
the motion of the eye that composes a visual symphony,
it is an organised cluster of sounds that co-ordinates the performances of all other senses.
It is about leaving open a beat of the heart, only to fill it with the energies of the living.

The beauty of life isn't about searching for joy,
but learning from memories of both depression and tranquility.
It is about the heart losing weight,
the smile gaining width and height.

The beauty of life is about the value of sorrow depreciating.

For me it's about ploughing joy from seeds of madness,
or overturning a frown into a thing of beauty.
It's about dreams that don't need me to sleep and nightmares that have no back up files.

The beauty of life...

As much as I try to define it,
the statements always have a questionmark at the end.

So forever I search, for the beauty of life...

i finally understand
   what all the sad songs are about
i finally get it
    that feeling that your beating heart
has been torn from your chest
the sick feeling
that constricts your efforts to breathe
the tears that will not stop
puffy red eyes and lips
the feeling of complete terror
that you have somehow
lost something beautiful and rare
that you have let him down
finding the desire of your heart
a direct connection - electric - maddening
and you know
this is exactly what i've always wanted
crazy c r a z y hope
gone in the blink of an eye
but i had to try for him
i had to
he was something worth fighting for
and i won't take down the drawing
and i don't want to forget
and i can cry to sad songs if i want to.