Has anyone else ever noticed that even hours after you walk away from him, you still smell him in your hair, and when you turn your head, you catch slight whiffs , and you always end up hugging yourself if you are alone, and randomly smiling if you are in public, still missing his embrace?

Rage all consuming,
Douse you in dark gasoline,
White haze, nothing else

I've always tried to be tough
but now I just think I've had enough
I'm not down on my luck
I just want a little love

If ya got the blues,
put on some green
I've got the *****
God save the queen.
Come on out to play
We'll hide from the dean
Have a ******* fantastic st. paddy's day!

I have just stumbled upon
400 Love Letters.
Yet, I have no idea who they are from.
Their intended audience varies,
to family, strangers, friends and lovers.
To bosses', acquaintances, and crushes.
Quite possibly, maybe, even addressed to me.
In essence this verse could even be construed as a confession of love.
My love for the person who has decided to pen these 400 love letters.
More essentially, it is a confession of gratitude, also directed
at the person from which love flows so freely.
Thank you for giving love, when I wasn't sure it existed.

smiles revealed during September,
leads to words throughout November,
and greater things come in December

now its May
and some days
it feels like I'm falling apart,
because my love can do nothing to mend your broken heart

things have a way of coming back to us
what was the name of that song by Yes?

well it's only the second sighting of you this week
wish we could sneak
back to your place,
but everyone can tell
by the look on my face,

its a Thursday

I love the buttons on your coat
and the way you can't hold your smoke
corduroys and shades of blue

driving down the road
there is a sound
but we both know, it's just the snow

just abdicate your objections
they incapacitate my affections

I don't need to ameliorate my attendance rate

I'm losing every ambition that I thought I ever had
no one even notices
no surprises, no surprises there

deja vu for you
I'm certain this future isn't true
I just can’t say adieu

Think I'm crazy crazy crazy.
What the **** is wrong with me?
Nothings wrong, you make it write,
When the pen runs out of ink,
I run out of dreams and reasons
dripping down the pages
like the green paint in the sink