dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.

Both hands in my pockets, a blank page tucked in my shoe,
Call it a list of every little thing I wouldn’t give for you,
Traded the city for salvation, but found neither kingdom nor crown,
We were too young for such silence, and far too old to settle down,
Now standing on a subway platform, New York buzzing overhead,
My skull sick with the ghosts off all the things we never said,
Pale skin caked with shadows, dull eyes lit low with fear,
Please bring me back to you, or any place that isn’t here.

There exists a place on earth
Where one can find true peace
A place away from stress and pain
A place where all of it will cease

For some, it's near the ocean
That a calm can always be found
The waves carry all the stress away
With that familiar relaxing sound

The coolness of the water,
And the warmth of sunny rays,
It doesn't take very long at all
Before the world melts away

For others it's the forest
That sets their mind at ease
The world feels completely still
When you're surrounded by tall trees

The air somehow feels calmer
It smells remarkably fresh
Some birds tweet in the distance
And your thoughts again can mesh

So often we get caught up
In the worries of the day
We forget to worry about ourselves
And take some time away

So whether you go alone
Or with someone you hold dear
Make sure to find the time you need
To make your head feel clear