I do not wish for love, but for Love.
In the eyes of the world, there is no difference.
Gift giving and receiving, someone you would die for.
Intimacy, sweet kisses, someone who's touch makes your skin burn.
This is their definition of love.
Mine is eyes devoid of judgement,
After divulging the darkest corners of my mind.
A touch that warms the body to the core.
Like sunlight in spring.
A shoulder that can carry, but can also rest.
A shoulder that supports a head,
Which within is a brain that knows me the best.
A song that I sing, for everyone to hear.
A song that I hum to myself for comfort.
Love is not love.
And love is not Love.
Love is constant,
after death and consequence.
love is three months.
