What is love
Thats the question everyone wants to know
Love is never letting go
Love is knowing they love you even when they are giving up
Love is not wanting to let go
Love is being scared to say good bye at night because you are afraid that in the morning they will be gone
Love is having your heart torn up in front of you a hundred times and still wanting more
Love is watching as they find someone else and knowing you will still be there for them
Love is waiting for that moment you fear will never come
Love is wanting to die rather than live without them
Love is being scared of getting everything you ever wanted except the one who mattered
Love is seeing them in everything you do
Love is crying at your favorite memories
Love is telling them every secret you've ever had
Love is listening to every song on the radio and thinking to yourself that is us
Love is that feeling that no matter what we do we cannot escape it
Love is staring deep into their eyes and knowing they love you
Love is being scared they won't be happy
Love is wanting them to leave when they have given up
Love is the one thing that scares everyone more than death
Love it faking a smile when it hurts to even think about life without them
Love is never wanting to wake up the next day because you know they are already gone
Love
This is what love is to me
But what the hell do I know I'm just a kid
Just a kid thats willing to give the world just to get a minute with her
He's just a kid
He cant understand love
He
.
.
.
Just
.
.
.
Can't

a blank page,
waiting to be filled,
waiting to be violated and blemished,
waiting to carry every single last burden
it stays waiting, because i can't
seem to reach my expectations
it will never be enough
and i will always come up short
with that puzzled look on my face,
like i didn't know this would happen
like i had no idea at all

you row, row, your wooden boat,
rough, sturdy, hardy, made for wear and strain
you yourself
gathered, determined, as tough as nails
as uncouth as your boat
how long have you rowed?
How much is time, what is space and distance
as the ship behind you is never reached
for it forever recedes, as you row, row
and perennially speed the prow
towards
Towards what?
Towards that
Which forever recedes, as you row, row
You row, row, the wooden boat
And all time and effort, all will and motion
is but oil and canvas
A picture, an impression, an illusion
A verisimilitude
of what?
Capturing what?
To embrace what?
That which eludes
Past time, past space, past mind and body
you row,  row, your wooden boat
rough, sturdy, hardy, made for wear and strain
you yourself
gathered, determined, as tough as nails
as uncouth as your boat
how long have you rowed?

Clear off the bed
and come lie next to me
or lie with me
or crawl under these sheets
and die with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could get used to this

Clear out your mind
and sink down low with me
or get high with me
or hold my hand
and lose some time with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could get used to this

Clean up your act
and fall apart with me
or fall, apart from me
or fall, a part of me
and take some time to cry with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could get used to this

Clean out your car
and run away with me
or run to me
or put it in reverse
and go back to the start with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could get used to this

Cleanse your spirit
and embrace this pain with me
or brace for pain with me
or take a moment to put me back together
and just be with me, with me
or without
I'm used to it
but I could still get used to this

TWO loves had I. Now both are dead,
And both are marked by tombstones white.
The one stands in the churchyard near,
The other hid from mortal sight.

The name on one all men may read,        
And learn who lies beneath the stone;
The other name is written where
No eyes can read it but my own.

On one I plant a living flower,
And cherish it with loving hands;      
I shun the single withered leaf
That tells me where the other stands.

To that white tombstone on the hill
In summer days I often go;
From this white stone that nearer lies
I turn me with unuttered woe.

O God, I pray, if love must die,
And make no more of life a part,
Let witness be where all can see,
And not within a living heart.