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Poem

In the mornings of the night when 
the house creaks and she says,
I need you- there is a love worth 
loving,
When all the lights go out and she 
holds to your chest and she says,
I need you- there isnt a love more 
worthy for a princed pauper than the 
one you have,
For really all your wants cant be 
summed up, cant be attributed to a 
model of perfection in reality, but 
she is still a love worth loving,
For in reality, imperfection can be 
the icing of the cake of perfection, 
where plastic has become a 
plaugue and infection,
The gods of the populus have put 
perfection to a veiw askewed by the 
few of you whom dictate perfection,
But she who calls in the middle of a 
class, in the middle of her social 
gathering, in the midst of all her 
imperfection and says i love you- 
there is a love worth loving, and not 
for the plastic,
But for the heart,
And as for all you midnight coffee 
drinkers, you unappreciated english 
scholars, you gentle souls, you who 
the world spits out a profanity 
towards, all you lost in a stormy 
maze of contradictions and lies- 
when you, when you rest your soul 
to sleep tonight be aware that you 
are looking at the skies,
You are looking at your own 
unlimited possibility and capacity to 
love and not for the plastic,
But for the heart,
The heart that beats to the tune of a 
harp, angellic and soft and 
whispers,
A love that is worth loving comes 
from the heart.

- Trey Capello

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