Perfectionists talk about first love. Realists talk about true love. Optimists talk just about love.

What are you staring at?""Rain drops on window glass is a sort of love-bite, is it not?

I was moving around with my imperfect, broken pieces until you came across and stitched my flaws with your words.

Absence is more,thorny on the soul,than however dulcet,presence can be.Apparently,I have missed you,more than,I have ever loved you.

It was in the horizon of existence, that the Big Bang must have created our souls, we loved each other like the plane of time doesn't hold a fleck of control over us.

Love makes you do,the best of things.Love makes you do, the worst of things,It's a feeling extreme,that doesn't exist in between.

He isn't the best, neither am I. But we are the best version of ourselves with each other. And that's pretty close to Perfection.

When I said yes,it implies till death,and forever thence.When I said love,it connotes trust,allied in situations tough.And today,when I hold your hand,I am prepared to stand,any trouble,any avalanche.

With you alongside,Magic is,less a dictionary word,And more a,part of life.