Impractical Poetry

I wrote you a letter 
that I never sent. 
It wouldn't make it better, 
didn't say what I meant. 
Guilty grammar hides 
the truth I tried to say. 
Noises from all sides 
are getting in the way. 
I’m the hypnotizing haze 
of impractical poetry, 
but you are the hours, the days, 
the beauty, the symmetry. 
There are no lonesome hearts, 
only lonesome moments. 
I am the sum of your parts, 
so we’ll never be broken. 
And I want you to hear - 
no, I need you to know - 
that I'll always be here 
inside the moon's glow.

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"Pouring over photographs, I'm living in your letters. Breathe deeply from this envelope. It smells like you and I can't be without that scent. It's filling me with all you mean to me.” Dashboard Confessional Living in Your Letters

"Hell is the west wind gasping for breath. Hell is a bare page black ink infection. Hell is the inadequate alphabet: a work-worn device to communicate with.” Aeroplane, 1929 Hound at Heels

"I been dreaming again of a lonesome road where I'm lost and I've got no friends, just the rocks and the trees and my lonesome dreams and a road that'll never end.” Lord Huron Lonesome Dreams