and so we dress like the wind and
speak like the rain.

All I ever got
out of loving you
was a snog and a
fuckload
of poetry.

We are the
inextinguishable souls.
Our hearts
beat
regardless.
We fight in
a referee's world
- maybe that's why we haven't
yet won
or given up
or something.
Maybe
life is a war
not meant for
victory.

Feed me the world on
the end of your spoon:
I won't ask any questions
and maybe this hunger will
stop.

There are some things
I don't think I'll
ever tell you:
like how I
shook
on the bus ride here
and planned my outfit
five days in
advance.
I won't ever
tell you because
you won't ever
need to know.
You see,
once we were actually
face to face
everything just
clicked
for the first time in
far too long.

I didn't get an
opportunity
to consider falling
for you,
it just happened
like missing
a step in the dark.
And I didn't get a
say
in the matter
but if I had I
don't think I'd have
fallen
any less hard.

I've never believed
in forevers
but I'm ok
with the possibility:
I'm ok with
just this one sunset
out of all the
millions
gone and
yet to come,
just this one sunset
with you
next to me
singing out of tune and
everything
surrounded by
water.

Get lost with me.
Let's forget about
time,
I like it best when
none of that matters.
You say we've got
all these hours
to **** but
let's not waste them
because it's
one more hour
with you
and I don't know when
I'll get another.

I am hanging on the
ends of the words
you don't speak,
searching for something
in our eye contact that
may or may not
be there.
Because
like I said
I don't believe in
forevers
but I sure as hell
believe
in the chance.

Live like an unappreciated stranger
in your own house.

Become the careless talk at family dinners
about the disappointing child
and pretend like it was all a joke
and slowly lose yourself with every
echo of drunken laughter.

Look into the eyes of someone you love
and realize how you can't feel anything
other than dread.

Become the lustful thoughts of someone
you can't love
and watch them cut themselves
into pieces for you, when
in the end
all you can say is a pitiful "thank you,
but I'd rather be a lonely wreck
drifting across the sea."

Ask yourself to be found
in a map with no direction
and with nothing but your
faulty heart to guide you away
from home.

Pretend like the music
disappears into the background
of the screenplay your life has become
and the screen slowly turning black.

Find the dread
in your own heartbeat.

Take off your clothes
and see how you sewed every misgiving
into your skin like a story you
never want forgotten
and marvel at how bad your stitching is-
can't even hold yourself together.

Hear the sound of the rain
and wonder why
the grey clouds of your heart
never go away with the same.

From passioned flames, a love is born
Of hopes and dreams and trust,
And when it dies, where does one mourn
When love returns to dust?

For death is death and loss is loss
And somewhere in between,
The death of love will bear no cross
And no grave to be seen

No upturned soil, no marble stone,
No polished box of pine;
No slow procession through the town,
No solemn church-bell chimes

All lovers need a place to cry,
To lay a solemn wreath;
Somewhere to say a last goodbye,
To overcome their grief