Do you mean the ones who live on the other side?
Clear across the ocean, two miles in from the tide?

The ones that live with little means or the ones that live like we were meant to?
That work, play, stress, fear, and cry, just like we do?

The men who were created from the earth and the women from Adam's rib?
The ones who fall asleep staring at the same galaxies wondering if we're all there is?

Do you mean the ones in straw houses near dirt roads?
That learn how to survive on the land and wear the clothes that they sew?

Others and me,
I'm sorry, pardon me... I'm just slightly confused
Because when I think of them, I think of me
I can't separate the two.

i really thought this would be
( f o r e v e r )
so why are we
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
apart?

no, dear, it wasn't you. it was
me. it's always me and my selfish,
no-good heart that's only full of
desires for every single thing i can't
have.

i love every single thing about you;
the way your:
smile melted away the pain in my chest,
eyes spoke every word you couldn't say,
voice chased away every fear that held me down.
flaws and imperfections didn't turn me away,
but they drew me into the beautiful wreck
that you were/are/will always be.

"if all you ever wanted was love,"
you whisper in three-twenty-two
morning darkness, "then why are
you pushing it away?"

(i don't know) i wish i didn't know,
and i wish i didn't have to tear
myself apart so viciously just to
find an answer to give you - one that
won't break your heart and ruin
the only good thing i've ever known.

"why are we falling apart?"
it's not you, love.
it's me.