Is it ever wrong to love somebody?

Why?
I saw somebody say you're a true friend,
They're a true friend indeed,
But what about me?
I've loved you forever from a distance,
They've never been as sure as me,
As sure as my true friendship, true love.
They hush my lips, press fingers hard,
I'm not allowed to tell you,
And I understand a little, I do, I do.
I'm not as angry as I was just a little before
Because I'm seeking the King with all my heart,
You simultaneously can let the King and
Your Prince have your heart, I know that now.
Basically, I want to say, it's not fair, you see.
I'm all truly, madly, deeply and the world says no,
But when they choose to forgive you,
They can love you for the world, you're a true friend.
Look everybody.
But they close their eyes for me.
And that's why I asked your friend for life:
Is it ever wrong to love somebody? 

A little less cryptic?

Stop lying to yourself.
And if you're telling the truth, stop that too.
Who are you going to find? Really.
Not that you can't, you just won't.
Not the same. Not better. I just know.
I don't care. I don't care.
I'm begging you to try again.
What you love you fight for, remember?
What you love you fight for.
You are not inadequate. Never inadequate.
More than adequate. Everything.
My head is screwed on and I know now.
It's words in your head. What they want you to say.
If you don't think so, you're lying to yourself.
I don't give a crap about easy.
Real love is hard love, it's a break-neck train wreck.
Better or worse but what else can we do?
I'm tethered to you. Who are we fooling?
The failures and faults hold us together.
Reputation. Reputation.
You know what I say to reputation?
I say: Hrooba looba lobba. 

Still in love.

I screamed it at the top of my lungs
And you were in the room,
But you still cannot hear me
And I'm not sure whether it's because of the music.
So, you're not alone now,
And it's clearly my fault, despite
What you said many moons ago.
Silly, really, I thought he may be able to
Stitch or something, over the wounds,
The wounds of you. DEEP. Both senses.
Silly, really, I always knew only One
Can do that. I do know that. I promise.
But seeing that guy with his new girl,
You see, it didn't even hurt.
Because that guy was lots of things,
(And I'm sorry and I prep how I'll tell you everyday)
But one thing he never was,
He never will be, and nobody ever will be,
And 'oh gosh', that's scary, because
Nobody will ever be you.

I nearly wrote your name then, by purpose.

So inebriate yourself - and I'll clean your shoes - and put your hand on your heart and tell me...

'tis the season for your folly.

As it grows a little calmer,
A foreshadow of the moments away,
I begin to yearn,
Only now I feign it's not for you;
Question - is it habit or heart that tells me so?

As it grows a little calmer,
I tremble in apprehensive glitter,
I see it sparkle,
Only now I feign it's general,
Remember - this is never an easy time for lonely.

As it grows a little calmer,
You flicker a gaze, a low energy smile,
I feel it melting,
Only now I feign you're evil,
However, I don't think I believe myself.

An ocean of bodies holding hands,
Touching shoulders, waistlines, cheekbones,
I want an electric shock.

But in other news, I'm moving to a new apartment.
And it will be nice.
And I wonder, will you see this place?

The art of the human heart.

Flow down all my mountains,

Darlin' fill my valleys.

The mixture is eggy,

and the yoke leads me to you.

Maybe it's the scouse,

The welsh,

The little things.

The everythings and the connotations,

Inevitably you, unbearably fresh.

And then there's our tomorrow,

And 'what does he do now?' -

I didn't know. I really don't.

'What about what he promised?' -

I couldn't say. 

"There's a promise made in every bed. 

Spoken or silent, a promise is surely made"

You're probably here, 

(Either now, tomorrow, or tomorrow's tomorrow)

Because of tomorrow.

You're a liar if you say you're not.

In spirit, in mind, in fingertips.

I'm ok, if you ever wanted to know.

Not great. But ok.

To be alone with you.

Tethered heartstrings, worse or worse or better.

The welsh,

The scouse maybe,

The little things. Little me.

"Whatever promise she senses: Break it. Break it."

I've never been more sure of the dreams in my heart,

Of who I'm supposed to be.

And the world worries that we're liars,

But, you see, I've learned this of late:

We're the truth.

That's why we're a little unnerving, 

Because we move you -

Lies don't move you like the truth moves you.

I've found the second truth.

He is the first and last.

My art is the second. 

The truth of the human heart.

I'm dabbling in the art of the human heart.

It's magical.

I can't wait to move you.

Borrowed words.

I first met you many years ago,
Since I've met you many years have passed,
Most of which I've been trying to figure you out, of my life?
Where you go you leave a trail of chaos,
Your footsteps always lead to the same thing,
It may be hard for everyone to see what's going on.
But you can count on me.

Like a freight train without any freight...
I promise you, the end's gonna come, soon.
And like a hurricane, the end's gonna come.
As you know it should.

And right in the depths of despair,
Honestly I still truly care.
How I long to see you set free.
Now I know, the liberator can't be me.

Please

Talk to me. Give me some kind of peace. Say sorry. Or that you were lying. Or something. Because you don't know what's happening and the worst case scenario is you finding out too late.

The new plan.

Instead of worrying about winning them
I've just got to work hard at becoming who they need.
Then the right one will come along.
And if they're already along,
Then the right one will settle down.

One of them is good at this,
The other, the older, has never been so.
And that's why I'm still shackled.
So if I learn with one,
The right one will reveal themselves.

Just to be a hypocrite though,
I don't know how you just smile.
I just don't know.
And I read back some emails from long ago,
And I still laughed.
And I remembered that I'm not fundamentally unlovable,
I've just never been able to sustain,
To hold you. Any of you.
So maybe it's all my fault.

Either way, this is my new plan.
I am my new plan.
And you are my old plan.

Simile. Metaphor.

I do not yet love well,
But boy, do I love hard.
I'm the squishy, slimy snail
With the crunchy shell.
I cry with my eyes closed,
I dream with my heart open,
I don't know who I am,
But I know who I would like to be.
Ouch, suppression. It hurts.
It's like heart burn. It is heart burn.

Pause.

Do not let my fickle flesh go to waste
As it keeps my heart and soul in its place.
And I will love with urgency
But not with haste.

Return to sender.

Well it's one thing to fall in love
But another to make it last
I thought that we were just beginning
And now you say we're in the past
Look me in the eye
and tell me we are really through

You know it's one thing to say you love me
but another to mean it from the heart
And if you don't intend to see it through
why did we ever start?
I wanna hear you tell me
you don't want my love

Put your hand on your heart and tell me
it's all over
I won't believe it till you
put your hand on your heart and tell me
that we're through
Put your hand on your heart

They like to talk about for ever
Most people never get the chance
Do you wanna lose our love together
Do you find a new romance
I need to hear you tell me
you don't want my love

Put your hand on your heart and tell me
it's all over
I won't believe it till you
put your hand on your heart and tell me
that we're through
Put your hand on your heart
hand on your heart

Look me in the eye

To whom it may concern.

'No matter how crazy my life gets, I know you'll be there. And when it's your turn to lose it, you can count on me'

And now I see (no I always saw)

Now I accept where I must go,

What I must seek (other than He)

Because I've always known that 

I cannot be who [name] wants 

Until I am who I want (and He).

And you (you know exactly who you are)

If you are reading this (hypocrite)

Trying to work out what I'm thinking,

Then here it is,

I'll spell it out for you:

H.O.W. D.A.R.E. Y.O.U.

I could sabotage (I repeat) this if I so wanted to

(I don't want to. Hi, do you even remember me?)

With the secrets and the truth 

('the darkest things that we don't like to talk about')

Get off your high horse. It doesn't suit you, sir.

The late night drives,

the letters,

the emails, 

the confessions,

the 'chin up's...

But at least now I'm started to believe this.

Because you would never have done this.

Shown me this little respect...

Wait.

That's ridiculous. Where do I start? 

White wine + iPhone =

I miss you.
Please say something tomorrow.
I know I certainly will.
It's the reason I've been drinking white wine tonight.
I don't like white wine.
But I think it makes me ok.
I'm not ok.
I miss you.

Ivory Tower.

It's not her fault she's in an ivory tower,
But when I listen to her voice
I can't help but look up at the pearly dew
And the rainbows of faith
Personified in her being.
She has provoked this in me.

'There is a knock at the door, she wonders - How much more? I am more than property.'


I'll let you in to a little secret...
When I was walking away this evening,
Without your eyes following me,
I said: 
It's almost been a year and he still doesn't really look at me.
And you see, you know me,
I can't help but wonder - why?


'She is not just a stranger'


It's silly to think this is still just a season,
But the plan that I made in the dusty 
Cricks of my crux almost the 365 ago,
I am now afraid of.
I told myself to 365 this and then breathe.
But I'm choking on the fluffy stuff.


'I'm falling into your arms. I'm falling into the ocean of you. And I'm not coming up for air anytime soon'

Or. Sorry!

Hamlet:
I did love you once.

Ophelia:
Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.

Hamlet:
You should not have believ'd me, for virtue cannot so
inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it. I lov'd you not.

Ophelia:
I was the more deceiv'd.

Hamlet:
Get thee to a nunn'ry, why woulds't thou be a breeder of
sinners?

I think you might think I'm with him.
But I'm not with him because I'm still with you.
In my tiny brain.

Darling, you are the only exception.

N.b. (This is like a footnote but at te top...so a head note?) I wrote this on SWs day and if moved me to read it back again. It's raw. Sorry.

No, I take that last word back. Here you go:

It's only when I speak that I know what is going on in my head.
Isn't it strange?
I have to say it to the world, or to the or out of this world, to realise it.
That's why I've stopped talking about you.
Because if I don't say it, apparently, I don't feel it.

So I'm not gonna say the phrase 'Mr and Mrs [you know what] chilled me.
I'm not gonna say that I realised that's not me. At least, not anymore.
That I thought that was my fate. Destiny. Goal.
That I should have been there, not the empty bed.

I hope you slept well.

If you could see my playlist...

You said move on - where do I go?
I don't know how I can do without.
When I'm with him, I am thinking of you.
Wishing you'd come sweeping in
The way you did before.
How I wish that I was looking into your eyes.
You're my best, so, yes, I do regret.
And I wonder if I ever cross your mind?
For me it happens all the time.
I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all.
Please bust through the door and
Take me away.
In your eyes I want to stay.
Keep in love with me or fall back and save me.

Welcome back to Wednesday.

Crispy little lexis falling from fingertips,
Because it's deemed dangerous if the
Tongue gets too involved.
Then it's been processed, oh yes,
Frilly and meak in a bloodless massacre
Of denial and wonderment;
Is it still love if you take away the title?
If you're truly fighting against it this time?
But still I ponder, if I'm still fonder,
If I'd still wander if your index curled at
Me. You hear little lexis even if I don't
Share it with the molecules of the earth,
You faddy young man of blue and white,
At least for tonight, with brown toes and
No looking glass to hide your face,
I fear I am in the same place,
The same place where I have resided
For many a year gone by, only now
I tell myself that you're floral aura has
No power, you flower of peachy black.
Where am I?
You're losing the reception.
The sound crackles.
The picture blurs.
I made sure of it this time.
I am frightened.

Glottal.

How can you explain a feeling like this?

An ethereal substance of intangible dust like this.

It's a clogging of the heart to the soft palette,

Caused not by a real something.

It's so there that it can be nothing but there,

But yet there is nothing there in reality. 

It is a memory stuck in my throat,

A message in a bottle locked away,

With a sacred master key for my body,

That you will keep with you since I once gave it to you.

May the fourth be with you.

This is possibly a record,
It's been five sets of 30ish,
But I can't deny the correlation,
You are the fuel of the phalanges,
You, with your broken promise
And glittering face of pretense,
Or so it seems to me,
Because I know how you crumbled,
And longed for a faith of your own,
And whispered that it was never real.
But what do I know?
I thought you'd be using just one knee today.
What a difference a threat makes.