(2013)
Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another
I feel empty unceasingly until you come along and fill my heart to bursting
I wish you had told me that on the good days kissing you would make me think that I knew what happiness was and on the bad days
All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life
I would write a sweet poem and title it with your name if I loved you at all
I have whispered your name into the air so many times it has become the breeze that blows
My heart was paper now folded six times over to make it harder to tear I only hope that
I don’t remember any anesthesia after talking with you but I woke up stitched back
The road is long and winding like nothing you can imagine Too many off ramps to count but too few in hindsight
Forever seems like so long until I think of all the times spent waiting
There seems to be a drought in my… but who knows if it is the cause or the result of the war raging within me
Everyday I lived out a song written just for you But you could
I write sharp words with a sharper knife on page after page of what might as well be the skin of my back
The pen must be mightier than the sword For there is nothing that will spill your guts faster than a bit of ink that says
Loving you was never sweet like the taste of vanilla the way I thought it was supposed to be It was more like