im listening

Im trying hard not to write another love story
there are just too many
everyone wants to talk about love
i want to write about rapture
about how your heart was a beautiful woman
and you dont miss her.
when you feel empty
and organized
you forget if you have black or blue eyes
because sidewalks and concrete
are more familiar than mountain tops and sea walks.

I often write about the weight of other things
but i rarely get around
to telling you about just feeling heavy
of your heart reaching two tons
more than your ribs can take.
this monotonous, droning step carries so many
I know we all hurt
dont tell me you arent angry
i am angry
and i am lonely
but i am not love sick

lets stick to the facts
like what time my alarm rings
and what sings me awake in the morning
- i usually have that song stuck in my head all day-
these are the simple things
because it still stings to talk about anything else
and the way someones arms felt
doesnt concern any of you...
you have your own lovers to miss
and this chapter in my life can be called short and sweet

lets address all the thingswe want to say to strangers on the street
because we are all equally as clueless there
that way what im talking about is clear
and the people that linger near my corner these days
all look like they need to be told to wake up
so wake up
and keep your chin up

we all have love stories
i dont want to know what you think of at night
i want to know what you hear in the morning
when your alarm rings
because i want to know you
i want to tell you
that there are so many people to learn from
and if you cant find five thousand
in seven billion
then youll never know what love is
because you just werent listening.