What is Love?
Complete
It doesn’t matter how cold I am or even how badly I am feeling. I know that when he comes around one of two things is going to happen. It can get infinitely better or infinitely worse. And I have yet to actually experience the bad when his lips curve into a familiar grin. You see, it doesn’t matter that he’s had a bad day or that he feels like teasing me for being absolutely childish.
Because when we’re together the world just stops spinning.
He’s the only thing that matters to me. I’m the only thing that matters to him.
It all melts away into silver butterflies that burst from some feeling in my stomach. Turning into some fleeting emotion one might say is anxiety. I can’t place it, because I can’t stand. My knees become jelly and I fight to stand up to a man who knows too well what this rising warmth in my cheeks means.
His smile becomes wider, the only thing he wants from me is my guard dropped. I’d fight with him if I stood half a chance. By the time he’s realized I’ve lost I’m already in his arms listening to the familiar steady beat of his heart.
To merit a sigh means I have won the next round. This is a dance in which the steps are always the same.
It is a rhythm we pretend not to know.
There is no rhyme.
Only reason.
Me being his.
He being mine.
Feelings become displaced as some horrible explanation. There is no definition, not one to properly describe the warmth that radiates from his soul. Some might say it is love. Others may simply ridicule me; I find that for me this feeling is simple.
As simple as his smile.
As simple as his embrace.
To me, this is complete.
It doesn’t matter how cold I am or even how badly I am feeling. I know that when he comes around one of two things is going to happen. It can get infinitely better or infinitely worse. And I have yet to actually experience the bad when his lips curve into a familiar grin. You see, it doesn’t matter that he’s had a bad day or that he feels like teasing me for being absolutely childish.
Because when we’re together the world just stops spinning.
He’s the only thing that matters to me. I’m the only thing that matters to him.
It all melts away into silver butterflies that burst from some feeling in my stomach. Turning into some fleeting emotion one might say is anxiety. I can’t place it, because I can’t stand. My knees become jelly and I fight to stand up to a man who knows too well what this rising warmth in my cheeks means.
His smile becomes wider, the only thing he wants from me is my guard dropped. I’d fight with him if I stood half a chance. By the time he’s realized I’ve lost I’m already in his arms listening to the familiar steady beat of his heart.
To merit a sigh means I have won the next round. This is a dance in which the steps are always the same.
It is a rhythm we pretend not to know.
There is no rhyme.
Only reason.
Me being his.
He being mine.
Feelings become displaced as some horrible explanation. There is no definition, not one to properly describe the warmth that radiates from his soul. Some might say it is love. Others may simply ridicule me; I find that for me this feeling is simple.
As simple as his smile.
As simple as his embrace.
To me, this is complete.