The Important Thing

(I saw this quote by Sylvia Plath:

“Some things are hard to write about.

After something happens to you,

you go to write it down, and either

you over dramatize it or underplay it,

exaggerate the wrong parts or ignore the important ones.

At any rate, you never write it quite the way you want to.”

And so it got me thinking and here’s what I wrote:)


The important thing was that he had died.

The important thing was that he had lived.

The important thing was what he meant to me.

The important thing was how I felt without him.

The important thing was that he made me know I could be loved.

The important thing is that it all means so much.

He is all the words I meant to say,

but couldn’t scribble them down before they slipped away.

I hit the page with the pen

at least twice before the sentence begins.

What if these words aren’t the ones that express

my meaning, making meaning meaningless?

A word at the right time is good and fine,

but one wrong sound

is even more profound,

and will put you under ground.

He makes me nervous, being new and the same,

inciting strong feelings still to be named.

Mistakes from the past have made me aware

of the loss of great things and that some are still there.

I don’t know how to take things that are said,

or how to deal with the empty bed,

and the quiet house and the sad thoughts.

I don’t want to feel things I think I should not.

But he makes me happy in ways I have missed:

the light in his eyes and the lips to be kissed,

and teasing tones

and lover’s moans

still to be heard:

saying so much without a single word.

He has disappeared,

something I now know I had always feared.

I was afraid of the risk involved,

now the problem is solved

and I can never say

to him how strongly I wish it hadn’t ended this way.

Another has come to take his place.

I find it difficult, at times, to look at his face.

I know what I lost before,

and I’m afraid to feel anymore.

The reasons are always the same not to love.

Once I receive it, I can’t get enough.

And when it’s there, it can be stripped from my grasp.

Will I be able to keep some of it at last?

The important thing is that he talks to me everyday.

The important thing is that he listens to what I have to say.

I see things in him that I valued in you.

The important thing is that I see the differences too.

I’ve learned what I like from the troubles I’ve  gone through.

And nobody changes in the end.

I’ll always miss you, my love and my friend,

but days keep passing by for people like me

and if I’m not with you at least I can be

with someone like you, who’s goal in this world

 is to love, and be loved by, an imperfect girl.

That is the important thing.


The Cat and the Candle

I must be awake in your dreams

because I can’t sleep

even though I’m dog-tired

and I have promises to keep come morning.

I can’t keep taking your fickle ways

and the moves you make

that never lead anywhere.

It’s not that I don’t care, I do.

But you don’t want to admit the truth.

Or maybe I’m wrong,

all wrong about you.

But I can’t keep following you around

making a fool out of myself

for your sake

when it seems like I’m not worth

the chance you’d have to take,

at least not in your estimation.

Cause I know that there’s noone out there

as good as we could be.

If you could only see things like I see them.

But life goes on and I can’t keep waiting.

Be a man and spit it out

or go about your daily life

and forget how we looked in

each other’s eyes and saw

the answers to questions we’d asked

since the day we had sense enough to ask questions.

Then you’ll have to find a girl to make up for the loss of me

and I’ll be a regret that you’ll always have

along with the bitter and boring philosophy

that is wasn’t meant to be,

when the truth is we make our own fate

and I couldn’t take

one more day

of the feeling I got when you stole my breath away

while you acted like you didn’t know.

Or maybe I don’t mean anything to you.

I don’t know.

But you know,

I’m a curious cat.

I can’t let it go at that.

So next time I see you, I’ll say my peace.

I’ll gauge your response

to the things that I say at great cost,

things I’ve held inside because I was afraid.

And you’ll say what you’ll say,

and if you don’t love me, I’ll walk away

from what I’ve called friendship.

If you don’t love me, I don’t want to be your friend.

I know I’ve been obsessed with us.

And if you don’t love me like I love you,

it’s not worth the agony that I go through

seeing you everyday,

knowing how great

you are and knowing I’ll never mean to you

what you mean to me.

I’ll say goodbye.

I’ll wound my pride.

And I’ll blow out my heart

that’s already sputtering and flickering,

so I won’t ever have to feel the sting

of one-sided love ever again.

Will you ever see the way I am?

Will you ever give a damn?

I think we both know you do now.

Will you ever say it out loud?

I don’t know if I’m good enough

that I should one day feel your love.

I think sometimes you send it my way

But I don’t know just how to say:

‘I love you. Do you return

my feelings and does your heart burn

the way mine does when I’m with you?’

I don’t know how to start this hallow truth.

I see your faults.  I see your flaws.

I’m not so blind that they are lost.

I see them in you everyday.

But I still love you anyway.

I wonder if you notice mine.

What imperfections do you find

when your warm eyes seek me out?

What does your mind complain about?

I know I laugh self-consciously.

I never take things seriously.

I talk so much unless I’m sad

I’ve seen the other girls you’ve had.

And I know to them I can’t compare

with my muddy eyes and my frizzy hair.

But I have things they never will

and maybe you have had your fill

of beauty on an empty head.

Have I won you over with things I’ve said?

You know, my friend, we’re growing old.

Perhaps you want a hand to hold

who makes you laugh when you’re bald or gray,

not just a face that fades away.

I can’t see around the curve,

but I hope I can work up the nerve

to say I’ve loved you all this time

and build a life on what I find.

Something Worthwhile

I walk the same path

wearing a hole through the green grass

down to the red dirt below.

I know

things will never change

so long as I remain the same.

And the start and the end are a similar place

with a little less honor and a little less grace

than I had at first.

I walk the same way

as I have since the day

I learned to walk.

And idle thoughts and idle talk

fill up precious time under sunny skies,

and I notice the wrinkles I have around my eyes

that were never there before.

All the words said

and the ones kept in my head

won’t slow things down

or tell me where action can be found

bursting at the seams under the sun.

Or call to mind what I remember was done

when no trace can be found.

The heart keeps on beating

and constantly reaching

for something worth holding on to,

Something worth going through the things we go through.

And at least hope is alive and trying

and working to save those already dying

and making it all as beautiful as it can be.

The Lyrics Project: How~Regina Spektor

It’s that time again folks…where I run out of things to write and share song lyrics instead…

I am a huge fan of Regina Spektor’s lyrics.  She has such a different and fantastic way of expressing things…she’s just not your average songwriter.  Her words always seem to have a way of getting to me.  They resonate with me on a super personal level that leaves me breathless.   When I hear her music, I am often left thinking about things in ways I hadn’t before.  She has some songs that just sound so silly, but when you start thinking about the words they are oddly poignant, and it’s something that I appreciate on so many levels.  At any rate, today I’m sharing “How” from her album What We Saw From The Cheap Seats, but I really recommend checking out some of her other songs as well.  She’s totally worth the time it’ll take if you really listen to her words.



by Regina Spektor


How can I forget your love?

How can I never see you again?

There is time and place

for one more sweet embrace.

And there’s a time,

when it all ,

went wrong.

I guess you know by now

that we will meet again somehow…


Oh baby how

can I begin again?

How can I try to love someone new,

someone who isn’t you?

How can our love be true

when I’m not, I’m not over you?

I guess you know by now

that we will meet again somehow…

Time can come and take away the pain

But I just want my memories to remain:

to hear your voice, to see your face.

There’s not one moment I’d erase.

You are a guest here now.

So baby, how

can I forget your love?

How can I never see you again?

How can I ever know

why some stay others go?

When I don’t, I don’t want you to go.

I guess I know by now

that we will meet again somehow…

Time can come and wipe away the pain.

But I just want my mind to stay the same:

to hear your voice, to see your face.

There’s not one moment I’d erase.

You are a guest here now.

So baby, how can I forget your love?

How can I never see you again?

(Don’t forget to check the song out for yourself here: )


Living here among the callousness

and all the conditions faced,

I have a need to become nameless,


once more.

If I let go of all that I am

could I somehow be given,


the chance to start clean and new again,

and be entirely unaccountable

for my former misdeeds?

Could my past be wiped away

with the flick of a wrist

or the promise that I

have learned my infernal lesson?

Could I be allowed peace of mind at last?

To have the past washed away like footprints on a shore

not to be seen in this world anymore?

I could start from scratch,

but knowing what I know now

and at least having half a chance

at happiness, which always

seems to just escape my grasp.


I am tired of writing pretty words

and making pretty pictures to pass the time.

I think I must create these things

to forget myself and that I mind

that I can’t feel like others do,

and only to forget for a moment.

Things will never be as they once were.

The time for it is lost to me and can’t be found again.

I think I finally understand

actions I could not comprehend before.

To be loved is not enough,

a person needs to feel it .

My heart refuses to understand.

And friendship isn’t going to fix it

and I long for someone to hold my hand

without having to believe it’s pity,

without having to believe it’s a lie.

But that never comes.

So I keep writing lines

and I keep making marks on blank pages

to pass the precious time.

I wish he hadn’t said what he did

because he ruined my words

and he ruined my pictures

by telling me the truth:

that I wish I didn’t have to write

and I wish I didn’t have to make marks

but that’s all I have

even though that’s not a life.

That’s all I have.

I fell in love in pieces

I fell in love in pieces,

not the lie of ‘love at first sight’.

Who can know what another soul has hidden?

It takes more than a minute to bring it to light.

No, I fell in love in pieces,

with many grains of the sands of time.

When I thought I figured out what I wanted,

my heart went and changed my mind.

I fell in love in pieces,

that struck me with their truth:

By watching the person he had to be,

not by lust in the throws of youth.

I fell in love in little ways

and not just on a whim,

my mind taught me to care less for self

and learn to care for him.

I fell in love with words he’d said,

but more that actions followed.

I thought I could not love him more

but then learned there was tomorrow.

I fell in love with small things

that no one ever sees.

Others can’t tell how important he is,

they don’t know how much he means.

I fell in love in pieces,

I didn’t know for quite a while.

One day I caught myself thinking of him

and realized it made me smile.

 I fell in love with invisible things,

things that have no measure.

The way he does the things he does

is something that I treasure.

I fell in love from the inside out,

then desire, it came too.

I didn’t notice a handsome face,

but eyes can be untrue.

Eyes can be such shallow things,

but I happened to be blind

and got to know how true love feels:

falling for someone’s mind.

At last I find I want to touch him

and have him touch my skin

and show in movements, soft and sweet,

that I love what he holds within.

I fell in love in pieces,

but fell too late in love.

I hold him dear to my heart each day

and that will have to be enough.

I fell in love in pieces,

but I can never let him know it.

I value him so highly

that I’m afraid to show it.

I fell in love in pieces,

in many little ways.

But I’d rather have a friend for life,

than a chance at a lover any day.

I fell in love in pieces,

in one part at a time.

But I’d rather have him as a constant in life

than risk it to call him only mine.

I fall apart in pieces,

each day another crack.

He’s always very kind to me,

but I know what I lack.

I lost my life so sudden,

I hardly remember how.

Only that what once mattered

doesn’t really matter now.

I fall in love in pieces

everyday and more and more.

There’s nothing I can do about it,

I don’t know what I tease my sad heart for.

I fall in love with parts of him

I didn’t see yesterday.

But he’ll never know the way I feel,

never hear the words I want to say.

I fell in love in pieces,

and I am falling still.

I wish that I could change it,

but that’s the way I feel.

I fell in love in pieces,

and I am falling still.

But he doesn’t know I love him,

never has and never will.