'Love is a drug'
it's a bit cliche at this point but its true
not in the sense of addiction or how harmful it can be
but in the sense of its effects
love changes people and it changes each one of us differently
for some, they become suave people with immense charms
for others, they become bumbling awkward masses that are plagued with a mentality and drive that makes them try too hard
it can slow you down
make you hyper aware
fill up every bit of you
from your toes to your hair
Love is a drug
it can make you do or think or say things you never thought you could
it's an oxymoron that turns you into everything you never were
it's every color and sound and feeling; it's everything at once
it's pure, it's evil, it hollows you out as it fills you up and gives the deepest sense of pleasure as it kills you and eats you from the inside out
Love is a beautiful thing, some might say life's greatest creation
maybe this is true, maybe it isn't but be careful
because its beauty makes so shockingly easy to overdose on when you're in it

Speak to me, like you did that night. Look at me, your eyes so bright. Walk with me, by pale moon light. Talk to me, we can make this right.

You are the Major to my minor, the roots to my leaves. You are the silver lining my mirror, you bring out the best in me. You are the fire to my water, the sky to my sea. You are the light that casts my shadow, you shine on the worst of me.

Speak to me again, I miss my friend. Look at me again, it doesn't have to end. Walk with me again, out on the sand. Talk to me again, I promise to you I'll make amends.

You are the Major to my minor, the roots to my leaves. You are the silver lining my mirror, you bring out the best in me. You are the fire to my water, the sky to my sea. You are the light that casts my shadow, you shine on the worst of me.

Carry on my dear, there's nothing to fear.
The road ahead appears before nimble minds and loving tears. Carry on my dear, I'll be waiting right here. Counting ahead the years drag every moment you're not here.

You are the Major to my minor, the roots to my leaves. You are the silver lining my mirror, you bring out the best in me. You are the fire to my water, the sky to my sea. You are light that casts my shadow, you shine on the worst of me.

Hello Alfred where ya bin?
Cruising aisles of memories tinned, a good deal
thinner when you last checked in.
Back slapped worn, born of songs between
your ears, evenings out are scrims on which
you show your friends what is what and what they fear.
Oh you pickled miscreant.
I dare you.  Eat me.  All up.

he played the same song
of love
running around in my dreams
all throughout my mind
the chords echoed in my head
touching the strings of my heart
oh so beautifully
he played
falling in love with him
like falling in love with the music

Nowadays the love songs don’t focus on love
Only thing the songs are expressing is ***
And taking the girl back to your house above
All else and then have her leave if the next
Logical point in the song
Everyone jams out to these signing along
Saying these are the next big thing to hit
The radio making the guy be the strong,
Macho type and the damsel throwing a fit
Because of his attitude and complaining
About how love should be and not this
“Why can’t you be like an old song?” feigning
Anger to play hard to get on him but it’s just a diss
She’s laying on him
This is the usual nowadays except for the rare
Few who were raised on the classics actually
Falling in love with her instead of a hit and
Quick and a see ya around but is factually
Never happening again, looking for the band
That sung that sweet melody that touched the
Soul
Now this isn’t me saying I’m a classic Romeo
No not at all babe, I’m just trying to say
I’m looking to make her fall in love
And find a happy ever after in this
World that killed the love songs

Before I met you every love song sounded empty.
But now, I feel you in every love song I hear.
New and old. On the radio or on my iTunes playlist.
Happy, sad or anything in between.
You are in each word of every love song I hear...

As I sit here listening to these lyrics
I can feel you in my heart
Like the blood flowing through my veins

As I sit here listening to these lyrics
I can see your beauty shining in front of me
Like the glorious rays from the sun

As I sit here listening to these lyrics
I can feel your lips upon mine
Sweeter than the most delectable chocolate in the world

As i sit here listening to these lyrics
I can smell you wonderful scent
Like the fragrance drifting from spring flowers

As I sit here listening to these lyrics
I can hear two hearts beating in perfect rythem
Like the soothing melody of angles singing

As I sit here listening to these lyrics
I dream of you and me being together
A journey of endless love lasting forever and alway

I am so ******* sick of hearing songs about boys.
I am tired of looking into the eyes and into the hearts of beautiful, lovable women,
And finding emptiness that shouldn't be there,
Voids left by lovers who should have never been let in.

I'm sick of poems about the way his hand felt on your chest.
I'm sorry that he wasn't reaching for your heart,
I'm sorry that you were blinded by the first person who pretended that *** means love.
I'm so sorry that you carried the weight of him on your back as he directed you in digging your own grave.
But he is not poetry.

He is not the way that music lifts your heart outside of your body when you dance alone.
His hands are not the hands that pulled you off the floor when you didn't think you had the strength to stand.
His mouth is not the mouth that keeps you breathing,
Alive,
Singing,
Kissing,
Laughing.
And his heart is not the heart that beats in your chest,
No matter how much heavier your torso seems since he left.
His body is not poetry.

But yours is.

They were your legs, weren't they, that walked you home,
Even after he knocked you to the ground,
Even after your knees buckled for him.
If I recall, your arms threw his **** down the stairs
And out of your life.
It was your lungs that screamed,
"I deserve more. I am more".
And it was your heart that bled.
It was your heart that prayed.
That hoped.
That loved.
It was all you,
Always you.

And that is poetry,
You.
You are the poem.