Love is a slow kiss goodnight, It's anticipation.
Love is flirting ourtageously and
still remembering that the person
at your side is not obligated to do anything,
It's respect.
Love is an imperfection in your self
not bothering you, it's acceptance.
Love is passing up an opportunity
because the time isn't right yet, It's patience.
Love is a back massage that starts above
the hairline and ends around the insoles,
it's exploration.
Love doesn not have to say, "lets make love,"
because you know what the other person wants,
it understands.
Love is being given an honest chance to say no
when you thought you were committed,
it's consideration.
Love is both of you remembering protection,
it's responsibility.
Love is saying the perfect phrase to make a
solemn embrace dissolve into giggles, it's humor.
Love is being told "stop and i'll kill you."
It's desire.
Love is reviewing the damge to your living room
and realizing personal effects are strewn in a
clockwise pattern from the front door the to
bedroom, it's abandonment.
Love is seeing what your love really looks like for
the first time, it's truth.
Love is knowing what time it is and not caring,
it's joy.
Love is the arms around you tightening their
embrace, it's ecstacy.
Love is seeing a new side of a person you thought
you knew, it's renewal.
Love is telling a person if you have to leave,
you will let them sleep, and being told they would
rather be woken, it's tenderness.
Love is waking up to find the subject of the dream
you were having asleep on your shoulder,
it's where fantasy meets reality.
Love is being there to wake your lover slowly,
it's sensuousness.
Love belatedly knows why you bothered to buy a
queen-sized bed three years ago, it's practicality.
Love is two people only taking up a third of a
queen-sized bed, it's closeness.
Love knows you gave the extra set of keys to your
apartment to the right person, its trust.
Love is saying good-bye and knowing you will be
back by mutual consent, its faith.
Love is stretching your arms and discovering the
real meaning of the word "sore" it's a lesson
in human frailty.
Love is opening your medicine cabinet finding your
tube of toothpaste turned into a prezel, it's adaptation.
Love is sitting at the window, looking out
and remembering who you were with the night before, it's
reflection.
Love is hearing the weather forecast for a winter storm
and wishing you could spend it in bed with your lover,
it's loneliness.
Love is stories that will never be told, it's personal.
