You find yourself so bored out of your mind,
that it becomes amusing to drive others out of theirs

Good girls will leave their heart at your doorstep
and days later, you'll have the pieces scattered around your bedroom

Your old drug of choice just doesn't seem to cut it any more,
but manipulation has never felt more addicting.

Make them say your name, make them tell you they love you
Keep that memory alive when you stop returning their calls
and when your words have cut deep enough, don't flinch when you see your mother cry for the first time
and don't think twice when you know that you're the reason why

Where did your feelings go?
You see how red your anger can be,
but do you remember what shade remorse is?
You prey on the people that love you most and run them dry
You feed off of their hope that maybe you'll change.
But you don't entertain the thought of love anymore
and you'll never see that people are not just another notch in your belt.

I have written three ******* books about you,
and all you ever gave me,
was a half finished song
and a broken heart.

Out of all the dust, and floating debris,
How did gravity, draw you to me?
Were our atoms made, in the same star?
Is that why I feel you, no matter how far?

It's that force, that binds us together
forever and ever, no matter the weather
We'll stand together, through it all
When the sun rises and the ocean falls
And when the tide comes to wash away
All the things we'd never say
And the names in the sand, in which we made
Encircled by a finger-painted heart,
Two people, not even God could keep apart

I just blame it on the gravity.

Our city lights,
however small in comparison,
nullify the countless Stars
of the wondrous night Sky.

Perhaps
this is analogous to how
things that seem to be
so very close,
so very small,
so very benign,
so very familiar,
so very attainable;
things of our conscious creation;
can preclude even the very awareness
of far greater,
far more beautiful,
far more powerful things;
both external and internal;
both transient and eternal;
and why we must
take great care
and
act with great tact
and
act with immense respect
if
we, as mortals:
curators of reality;
are to be trusted
with such effervescent potency.

Here I stand upon this stop,
It's my ritual every day,
With all the other zombies,
Tired and looking grey,

The thought of public transport,
Irritates my brain,
As the bus arrives at my stop,
Packed like a commuter train,

The usual faces look away, 
Thinking please don't sit with me,
I park my **** upon their bags,
I pretend I didn't see,

The huffing and the puffing,
People late for work,
The woman sitting next to me,
Thinking...he's an effing ****,

Trying not to look at her,
Or the hairy man in front,
I look at the condensation,
As her elbow gives a shunt,

Getting up from my seat,
Needs balance and an awkward grin,
The bus brakes late upon this stop,
As she heels me in the shin,

My eyes welling up,
As I let out a massive ****,
The poor old lady gags,
Pulling up her winters scarf,

Embarrassed by my actions,
I pressed the button quick,
The odour travelled up my nose,
I think that i'll be sick

Fighting past the commuters,
Trying to get some air,
I knew it was too late....
Throwing up on some ladies hair,

So now I drive to work,
Past the Bus Stop that she waits,
We are married with two children,
Some people call it fate,

I knew all day that you didn’t want me.
The sirens rang, red flag tear ducts, and I
was just waiting for the bomb to drop.
I felt it, in my gut as they say,
like a paperweight, and choked
on all the tears before I even knew
they were coming. Here’s the thing—
you asked me. The rest spoke for itself.

The dress, the earrings, the phone call, the couch,
your gym shorts, glasses, and answering machine.

But we went to dinner, and you called me beautiful.
You threw croutons over the table, made me laugh,
let me hold your hand while they brought my iced tea.
I even found myself picturing you next to me.
I spread my palms, open, but I didn’t ask for a thing.
Yet, you kept defending yourself, explaining everything,
and I just wanted you to pay for the two of us to eat.

Your face is all that I see. Then why, why do I find myself
time after time again in these situations
where I keep plugging myself into equations
that obviously aren’t meant to be? You’re so sweet.
But if you searched through the crowd,
I’m not sure you’d want to find me.

I should have left you on the couch. Honestly,
I knew all day that you didn’t want me.
But I kissed you a million little times,
let your tongue explore my silent confessions,
willed you to find yourself
through the spaces of my mouth.
I should have just left you on the couch.

What does it mean
To grow older
Are we gaining
Our best years
Or losing them?