"all the words that got in the way"

Love’s just another mix on the iPod
unabashedly listening to other’s odes to you
opening myself up to one more (and one more) heartache
because two tracks later we’ll be in love again
whoever you may be
I’m sure you’ll like dancing to this next one

Poetry’s just another way to kill time
another scribble in the margin
near infinity but above the hash marks and flowers
maybe Shakespeare was no good
at drawing roses either

Happiness is just a stomachache
and why aren’t you in bed already
you should be more responsible
tomorrow’s Monday
and what was I saying