i lay down and the smell is in the air
i search for it
your scent

possibly amongst the pillows

but i can't pinpoint it

it fills me
maybe like a heroine addicts drug
on the contrary feels like the breaking seal of a water vein

everything explodes within me

all of my thoughts of you
my moans of your name
hand caressing my body

walking downtown
and your hardships

i can't believe
the simple scent
of the man i love
can bring so much out of me
that i can't fall asleep

He smelled like my Dad
Or like Old Spice and Zest
He smelled like a person working on cars
Or of the outdoors
He smelled like fresh milled wood
Or like a shirt worn with sweat
He smelled like our living room
Or like our dog named Stanley
He smelled like green trees
Or like a tavern where an un-known band plays
He smelled like an antique dresser
Or like a vintage vehicle
He smelled like warm buttered toast
Or like fresh brewed coffee
Although his smell's been gone for ages
I can still remember the way he smelled
Sometimes I can still smell him

Love is the first time you sleep with a face full of hair and don't care,
you're just grateful she's there.
It's all the emotion you're able to bear, so beware;
nobody said it was graceful or fair.

Love is unprepared to be rushed but a touch is barely enough,
and since you don't dare to give up, there is the rub.
She'll put her hair in a bun and rip the air from your lungs,
And you can feel your blood pumping like the scariest drum.

Love is it all, it's the bricks and the wall,
it's the stick and the ball, the listen and call,
The dismissal of any and all critical thought, but what is it overall?
it's the bridge metaphor and the physical fall.

Love is when you travel to the farthest of lands over mountains, marshes and sands.
It's artistry, grand, feeling your hearts swelling as large as they can,
hearing your arteries bang,
and being there to hold the cane inside the palm of her hand.

Love is transcending genders and age, to the 'benders' and 'gays',
finding an effortless way through the prejudiced plague.
Ask any men, they will say that it led them astray,
from the gentlest phrase to the mentalist, caged,

Love is the first time you sleep with a face full of hair and don't care,
you're just grateful he's there,
It's all the emotion you're able to bear, so beware.

Nobody said it was graceful or fair.