I read once
that the true mark of maturity
is trying to understand
where someone is coming from
when they hurt you,
instead of trying to hurt them back.
I guess I'm not as mature
as I thought I was.

help me, I have become addicted
to leaving behind those who have hurt me
over and over again,
like some become addicted to
cigarettes or tattoos or alcohol.
maybe my expectations are too high,
or being kind is my one true weakness,
but I don't expect to receive
any more than I am handing out.
if you keep taking, I won't have any more to give.

anybody who says "pay attention to me,
I am the most important"
when you feel like the ocean
has swallowed you whole,
is not worth loving.
hear these words, learn them, live them.
because you are your greatest downfall
and you don't need anyone pushing you.

so it seems
you have carved your name
into my tree of life again
and I just want to grow out of it.
so high, I can't even see it anymore.
but you are my whole tree,
and i'm not even a branch on yours.

we might not be pretty,
but at least we got soul.

i live in a world of many other men.
you were just the first one that
i locked eyes with in a crowded room.
we both know you won't be the last.

i didn't care for days, weeks, months.
but all of the sudden, it's 1:47
and i'm rocking back and forth
whispering to myself:
"don't miss the smell of the house,
don't miss the fat cat,
don't miss the pile of blankets and pillows
in the living room.
don't. DON'T."