I am an artist and you are a muse,
you **** for coke while I drown in *****.
I sketch out my fantasies, paint all my dreams,
reject all good reason for hopes that would seem
like the thoughts of a madman to anyone boring,
but I watch it happen till 4 in the morning
in my head as I play it out time after time,
what should I have said, what was going through your mind
when just two weeks before, we spent hours in your bed,
then your chair which then led
to the wall and your floor where you begged me for more
then you turned back your head, said I'm so ******* wet
that it's dripping down my leg.

But when passion was spent and gave way to exhaustion,
we lay there entwined, not a thought went to caution.
My arms held you close before you took my hands
and wrapped up my fingers with yours, as the bands
on your phone played us music to be just a background
as we talked for hours and then laughed as I found
that I could have stayed in that moment.

This time, two weeks later, that moment is gone,
like it never existed, I hope that I'm wrong,
but you seem to already have made up your mind
that you don't want to try and repeat the same kind
of day that we shared just two weeks before,
now I fear that I've fallen for simply a *****.
Did you try to deceive me? I'm just not quite sure,
for the last time I saw you it truly felt more
than a meaningless hookup.

But you are a beautiful, self obsessed muse,
I forgot that it's just in your nature to use
all the poor souls like me who fall head over heels
for your empty shelled beauty that easily steals
away all sense of reason.

But thank you for giving me this inspiration,
this outlet for me to pour all my emotion
that's trapped up inside that I usually can't find
the right voice to express it, it's not just a choice
for an artist to sit down to write or to paint
the next work that they have to get out 'fore they faint
from the feeling of heartbreak or something as simple
as the joy that we feel when we see the dimple
appear on your cheek when that smile comes across
your face and it purely leaves us at a loss
for words.

There's nothing worse than spending every second thinking about someone, knowing that they're not spending a second thinking about you.

But I am an artist, what else can I do?

What makes us great cannot be graded,
What makes us rich cannot be counted,
What makes us happy cannot be bought,
What makes us wanted cannot be caught,
What makes us live cannot be earned,
What makes us love cannot be turned,
What makes us fight cannot be won,
What makes us winners cannot be run,
What makes us strong cannot be held,
What makes us heard cannot be yelled,
What makes us learn cannot be taught,
What makes us dream cannot be thought,
What makes us believe cannot be preached,
What makes us finished cannot be reached

I fall on clouds
inside my room so bare
If only you were there.
You make it so wonderfully rare
To feel a moment blue.
In dreams wrapped in my arms are you
It sparks my mind to glow.
Those roads they wind so long and far
To reach you and stare up at stars
Only to dream of when my heart
Will find its meter in yours.
Thats what a master calls art.
But while you seem so out of reach
I think of when our palms will meet
And in that feeling I get lost
Then walk in dreams with you.

I wish you were a book then you'd be always by my side
Not eight hundred miles and a fourteen hour ride
In my hands I'd hold you gently caring ne'er to break your spine
I would gaze on you for hours, every word and every line
My fingers gently brush aside each page as they're read through
As if they were the golden locks that block your eyes from view
Whether saddened or enlightened or made laugh till I'm bright red
You'd become my happy place, hot chocolate and toasted bread
But even though I know books end and some are hardly true
There are books yet to be written
And this time my story's you

Here I go again
Foolhardy to say the least
Swept up in a feeling
My sensible side has ceased

She passed my way one summer day
My heart it skipped a beat
I stopped to say a little hey
And wound up off my feet

Her blonde locks flew in golden hue
I happily found myself lost
In eyes of blue too good to be true
I hoped that our stars would be crossed

Her heart did agree so she kissed me with glee
Her smile spread clear ear to ear
With her i could be in that moment so free
But inevitably failure is near

The problem you see will always be me
The romantic the nice guy the fool
Swept up in a sea of thoughts "meant to be"
Don't give in, the angel turns cruel