When I asked you what love was, you said it’s the refreshing annoyance of sprinkling rain. An itch between your shoulder blades. The way pepper can make you sneeze. It’s the deep laugh that comes from the inner workings of your belly. Like the smell of fresh ground coffee beans. The lingering warmth on your side of the bed after you’ve left. And the faded trace of you on my pillow.

Love is the monotony of gray. When you catch a smile you weren’t supposed to. The raspy smell of cigarette smoke. The soft tickle as your fingers dance on my skin. A reflection of the earth in water. And how sometimes, if you look close enough, it’s more perfect and beautiful than you ever thought.

It’s a velvety patchwork that you can’t help but finger. The way oil and water blend by not blending at all. It’s the way the sea meets the shore…Gracefully kissing each grain of sand. It’s a delicate balancing act. Like breaking wires or stringing eggshells.  Of learning to breathe in oceans and laugh in flowers. It’s intangible and yet you feel it stronger than anything you can touch.

It just is.