I'm sorry that I'm not your Prince Charming
The knight riding in with armor shining
I'm sorry I'm not your superhero
Carrying you up from the ground below
I have tried so hard to drop my guard
And open my hands to hold your heart
But it isn't mine to hold
There will come one to guard your soul
One to stand up for you strong and bold
The one made to hold your hand
And I am sorry that I'm not him.

Please paint the walls of this empty room
That I have built up just for you
Plaster these halls with that bright sky blue
That I see each time my eyes rest on you
Splatter the walls with that light pastel pink
That I see you breathe out each time you speak
Drown them with that somber maroon
That fills my head when you leave the room
And douse it in the deep dark rouge
That spellbinds me when you say "I love you"

I want to start this with a question.
Why, you may ask.
Because I know that there is power in questions
There is beauty in pondering and wondering
There is value in trying to understand the unfathomable
To try to rearrange the heavens into shapes and patterns
That makes sense to us
Questions hold such potential
I mean just a simple "what if?"
Was enough to launch men to the moon and back
Was enough to bring empires to their knees
Was enough to get that girl to go out with me
Questions make the impossible possible
And the intangible real.
They make infinity seem just a leap away.

The lines bleed onto the paper
Aligning themselves into words and pictures
Masterpieces standing ignorant
of their own beauty.

Pastels sitting on canvas
Being pushed around with a brush.
They form many different hues.
Mixing with deep purples and vivid blues
Painting such a sad story.
That whispers of pain and vain glory
The edges are tattered and torn to pieces
The canvas is severely moth eaten
But the artist loved it,
It is his life's work.
for many years it had been lost
Rotting and fading and falling apart
But He searched relentlessly
Turning over and rifling through everything.
Until he found it
His eyes brightened up
Despite its dismal look

It had lost hope of ever being beautiful
Of being dignified
Of ever bringing hope to somebody's eyes
But the artist whispered to that tattered canvas
You are so much more than all of these
you are my masterpiece

He sees her
The clichés that
He was always quick to dismiss
Now fill his head.

He meets her
The butterflies in his stomach
Take flight
Leaving him breathless.

He falls for her
As the words hang on her lips
He tumbles head over heel
Knowing he would never find the ground again

He asks her
As the butterflies reach his throat
He  chokes
But she still says yes

He dreams of her
The light of her eyes
Has burned the sight of her
Into his mind

He waits for her
At the foot of the stairs
And can only stare
As the princess makes her way down

He is stunned by her
His lips refuse to part
To allow any breath to replace
The one that she had taken away

He leads her
From the hall
He wants to rip the stars apart
Just to find her heart

It was such an easy love
Pure and new
Unscathed by scars
From trials they were bound to go through

The placebo ticks are numbing my mind
After my imaginary friends have all stormed off
These Freudian slips are my only comfort
As they give me hope that there is something under this rotting facade
I swear it was beautiful long ago
I know that is hard to believe seeing how it is now
But that pile of rubble once was my pride and joy.
I built up this faux appearance of self confidence
Along with just enough structure as to hold it up but not enough to be real
So now, here I am, raw
Unprotected against the elements
The towering spires attracted them
The stone throwers
And as expected it came down with the first couple of pebbles
But I love those minutes as those spires fell
For it was that destruction that made place for the cross
That worthless skeleton made way for this hope
Hope that I can be more than this facade
That I can be this person that I tried so hard to hide away
Under layers of protection and false fronts
Because that cross told me I was beautiful
It told me that I was worth revealing because I was his

My heart aches
Yearning, burning
To find beauty in the mundane
To find meaning in the stirring of the strings
The secrets that hide behind the
Swell of the harmony
Why do our souls
Cling so desperately
To the mountainous musings of the melody
Riding over the hills
Of a despairing land.
The horns scream out the
Pain of the peasants
While the clarinets take up
The whispers of the voiceless
And the flutes cry with the motherless child
But all of that quiets as the black notes sail away
The strings adopt the voice of the man pleading to his star crossed love
To run away
And the woodwinds soon join the chase
Of this dreamy eyed couple from that ****** place
Music moves
It soars it sinks
It carries and spellbinds the wandering soul.
It promises a divine love that will heal
Music is truthful
It tells us that there is something bigger than us
How else could these vibrations
Rip our souls apart and just as quickly sew them back
Every soaring note carrying our dreams to the one that formed us
No other medium could as purely
Convey the true beauty
Of Gods unfailing love for humanity