(2014)
You were the wind beneath my wings but I was Icarus so all I did
There is something to be said of a true friend One who will pull the knife from your back One who will stitch the wounds
Passion doesn’t arise from 12 point Times New Roman but rather from ink on one page and another
There is a girl and I love her and I have loved her since the beg… Or so it seems to me as I only became conscious
I wrote this while thinking of you so I guess you could say this poem is eight years in the making
I’ll keep searching for the meaning of life and I hope I find it as crumpled paper nearish a trash can
I get my silence in five minute doses before the plane overhead brings me back to earth
Everyday I lived out a song written just for you But you could
All that I know how to do is write about death without dying and write about life
Forever seems like so long until I think of all the times spent waiting
Everyday brings a new death in three words give or take Some days I drown
Everyone sees god in a different light but I was born without eyes
The road is long and winding like nothing you can imagine Too many off ramps to count but too few in hindsight
I feel empty unceasingly until you come along and fill my heart to bursting
My heart was paper now folded six times over to make it harder to tear I only hope that
