loving

The reason as to why we are attracted to our opposites is because they are our salvation from the burden of being ourselves.

I was mistaken when I said you live in my heart. How absurd I was when you live in my fingertips so that everything I touch is you. How foolish I was when you live in my toes so that everywhere I go there's you. How senseless of me to say you live in my heart when you breathe in my lungs, walk on my mind, and drink in my mouth. I came to pen another poem for you, but even every unwritten poem is you.

Being deeply, passionately, and intensely in love is being deeply, passionately, and intensely in life.

I love you so much I want to share youwith yourself.I know you do not insist that I do, but I love you so much I want to shareGod with you.

You are my favourite part of life.

How is it possible, you ask, for love to be greater than the person who does the loving? That__ because love defies the rules of reason. It is the only exception.

I__ a winner because I always bet on you.

Love isn__ blind. Maybe we are all born blind and love finally gives us sight.

The only thing that comes close to defining me correctly is my love.

Be like the sun who fell in love with the moon and shared all his light.

I fell in loveand then I became love.

Like a child who saves their favourite food on the plate for last, I try to save all thoughts of you for the end of the day so I can dream with the taste of you on my tongue.

Like freshly cut roses, I place life in a vase... of love.

Is it odd, my love, that I envy others who have not met you for the intoxication they have yet to experience? Is it odd that I wish to witness you with new eyes so I may have the pleasure of falling for you all over again? I am grateful, so grateful, for knowing the meaning of your various sighs. For being the cause of your ecstatic cries. But, if only for a moment, I wish to let you fall out of my hands so that I may catch you again. You, my love, are the oddity. You are my exception.

Nothing belongs to itself anymore. These trees are yours because you once looked at them. These streets are yours because you once traversed them. These coffee shops and bookshops, these cafés and bars, their sole owner is you. They gave themselves so willingly, surrendering to your perfume. You sang with the birds and they stopped to listen to you. You smiled at the sheepish stars and they fell into your hair. The sun and moon, the sea and mountain, they have all left from heartbreak. Nothing belongs to itself anymore. You once spoke to Him, and then God became yours. He sits with us in darkness now to plot how to make you ours._ K.K.

I am certain, my love, that poetry was born only after your birth.

We call a story about love a love story. We call a poem about love a love poem. Well then, my dear, aren__ our lives love lives?

Maybe love isn__ meant to be bliss never-ending. Maybe love is unwavering support and befriending.