We were never the marrying type, oh no,
We won’t buy dishes or stained glass lights, oh no,
For a table we’ll never sit at,
In the house that we won’t ever get

I won’t wake up and pick out your tie, oh no,
You won’t come home and kiss me at night, oh no,
We won’t lie in this king bed for two,
Say goodbye to us saying “I dos.”

No more white picket fences,
No more lace veils or vows,
No more “You’re the only one” ’cause that’s all done with now,
This is the last love song I’ll ever write for you.

Take these roses and this Jameson, oh no,
Find a subway that I can sit in, oh no,
Buy a one-way out of this city,
Everything that I need, got it with me

All these notes and all these words,
Are all that’s left in me,
Bend these pages, count my woes,
One last song to set me free.

No more white picket fences,
No more lace veils or vows,
No more “You’re the only one” ’cause that’s all done with now
This is the last love song I’ll ever write for you.

In the past, I did something crazy. And I did something hurtful. And I carry these demons, and I’ve let them anchor me in  place. What’s the use of all this knowledge if the simple concept of love befuddle me so? Well, maybe it’s because love isn’t a simple concept. Maybe it’s more than just neurochemistry and psychology. Maybe the emotion is something metaphysical, or supernatural. Not god, but godlike.

Love is more than just dead plant sex organs. It’s more than just chocolate. It’s more than just words and actions that lead to nothing. And maybe it’s something I’m learning to appreciate again, just like learning how to smile and mean it. There are moments when we speak that I feel a shutter in me. Is it love? Probably not. But just those conversations, silly moments, and playfulness. They keep me coming back for more.