If there’s one thing that unifies you and me, it’s heartbreak
If you’ve never experienced it to the fullest, you’ve seen it somewhere.
On your favorite tv shows, that song on the radio, on the girl’s face at the bar
On your lover’s face when you walk out the door the last time

And when you do feel it for the first time, you’ll want to be alone but please don’t be alone
You’ll want to bottle it up but
that’s a breakdown at work waiting to happen
That’s crying to his friends
That’s calling him after 1am, knowing he isn’t asleep yet
That’s driving by his apartment and holding your breath
That’s feeling like your hometown isn’t yours anymore, it’s a place you used to be with him

It’s feeling like the seasons are taunting you of when you were in love
The first fall of snow is the feeling of his hug
The lighting of the tree reminds you of warm cups of coffee on the couch
You dread New Year’s Eve because only 365 days ago, you danced with him in the street as the clock struck midnight
It’s knowing you will dance alone this year

You don’t look at your body the same way. You know how he saw it and you don’t see the beauty he did anymore
Your face doesn’t look like yours, it’s the one he used to hold in his hands
like a sparking jewel
He could marvel forever
I know he’s the first thing you think of when you wake up alone
And he wakes up next to her

Something that used to feel so concrete has been pummeled to dust
and now you’re left to scatter the ashes
So you drive by, the commons, the bbq joint, the movie theater, the lighthouse, the coffee shops, the all night diners, the book shops, the arcades, the antique stores, all the places you’ve made memories together
But please toss your heartache out the driver’s side window as you pass his apartment
because now it’s the only thing you two have in common

I often wish I was the cigarette you used
on cold nights to calm you down
and forget the pain you had.
Lies sometimes come in nicotine laced toxic.
I wonder if you see how every lie you tell
is you committing suicide
right in front of me;
killing everything I see in you.
Craving the voice that suffocates me,
these nicotine laced lies.
You being addicted to drugs,
and I to you.
Addicted to the taste your words leave in my mouth.
There is supposed to be a difference between love and nicotine.
I often wish I was that cigarette.
Only then would you be letting me in.
So breathe me.

i thought about it.
that’s what makes this the worst, i think;
i thought about it --
-- and then i did it anyway.

i know recovery isn’t a straight line.
i know recovery is ups and downs, your own
mountain range of
improvement.
sometimes you slide.

i know.
but is it still backsliding if you thought about it?
because i did.
and then i did it anyway.

She always loved a little magic.
But, don't we all
Admire the art in deception and
Manipulation of the truth?

I guess we all love a little magic.
Maybe, even too much but
We are taught to do what we love.

So she picked up her wand,
All smeared in black,
Her eyelashes her stage,
And performed her illusion.

Last night I whispered my scream
To the girl with the American spirit
Spent half the night
Begging those eyes to gaze at me

Maybe break night with me
Then we fix it it in the morning
You should be in my room at this time
You should see how the sun cuts through the blinds

It's the smell of the morning coffee
The freshly baked macadamia cookies
The smoke of that mint cigarette
And the snuggle of the pillow you sleeping with

Its your voice
It's the words
It's like mathematics
The 1 that can't be ignored
The understood 1

I'd like to talk about curves
Twist and turns
Dented surfaces

Or talk about God
Childish wishes
Open caskets
Broken promises
Surfing on Universal energies
Deciphering the Poems in the music

I'd like to visit Paris
Everglades sawn grass Prairie
With my palms caressing softly

I need a mental picture of paradise
A motivational quote before bed at night
These nightmares stressing for a fight

I'd like to talk with my dad again
I need a map of manhood
I think I might be doing it wrong
......Or just tell him that I'm a proud son

I want to dance
Waltzing around things I value
With black leather dress shoes
Courting yellows from blues

Using old memories as punching bag
Thinking about that kid who wasn't punching back
Curved spine with a heavy backpack

I want to be here now
No captions, just sounds
.....and curves