I saw this on web:
Love is the scars on your knees, the leftover food in the refrigerator, the song the birds sing, the pain you inflict, the sweet nothingness which flutters from your lover's mouth, a half complete cigarette, diet coke which fizzles on your tongue, the rainbow sprinkles on your cupcake, the battered package you received in the mail the other day, the sound of wind escaping through a small gap in your window, the dampness in your hair, the chipped red varnish on your finger-nails, your grandmother's musical box, the ballet shoes you've since you were five, the music playing on your car stereo, the flaky paint on your walls, the bubblegum stuck under desks, the tooth-fairy, your hands and the things you can make with them, the kisses you blow, the clothes you wear, 5-am morning, you sensitive teeth, the tingly feeling you get, the tangles in your lover's hair, sleepless nights, overdosing on painkillers, undeserved success and recognition, telling lies and not getting caught, blacking out from consuming too much alcohol, being desired by multiple parties, solving mathematical problem, watching the people around you, watching the people fucking up around you, screaming out of your window in the middle of the night, flaming your lover's ex, smudged mascara, disheveled hair and smeared lipstick, star-bucks mango passion fruit, little children, silence, recyclable materials, trees, photosynthesis, growth, development
No. Love is
you, I, and a careless mixture of everything else we worry about.
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