Perfection is the female form.
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Love
To me isn’t about the sex, it isn’t about how many dates you’ve been on, it’s not about kissing in public. It’s about the moments that no one sees. It’s about the intimate and personal moments you have with each other. The sneaking out at night just to lay down and stare at the stars and talk about anything and everything. It’s the way their face looks in the moon light, and the way their eyes light up when they look at you. It’s the feeling you get when you catch them staring. It’s the feeling you can see they’re getting every time you make eye contact. It’s the promises that we’re kept, it was the commitment to have the never ending nights, where you can tell that they are smiling over the phone, which makes you smile also. It’s the smile that’s plastered on your face whenever they’re around, or when you hear their name. It’s the instant butterfly feeling you get the second your lips meet. And the way it seems impossible, but you know that those lips were shaped just to fit your own. It’s the way you can see when they’re getting nervous, whether it be sweaty palms, even in the coldest weather or the neck rubbing when you call them beautiful. It’s the way you feel that you two are the only people, when you’re in a place filled with blank faces. The way their voice sounds when they tell you goodnight.
It’s the love that you know exists, even if the world isn’t aware. It’s the mutual trust and complete devotion. What I’m trying to say is, the world, your friends, they all don’t feel what you feel. So how do you explain such an extraordinary feeling. You can’t. Because it’s love and it’s between two people and two people alone.
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