Lust is desiring your partner, without regards to the time of day. Lust is buying bouquets of roses and wearing her favorite cologne and putting your arm around her waist. Lust is telling her how beautiful she looks all the time, and dressing up in suit and tie for a romantic candlelit dinner- with waiters upon waiters in monkey suits, and lone roses on tables for two. Lust is a passionate crimson and nothing is able to hold back the red-stained necks and disorderly cotton sheets, once white. Lust is being swept off your feet, in the most literal of ways. Lust is going to sleep with her, and waking up to a note on her pillow, “Call me later.”

Love is needing your best friend, at every hour of the day, each tick on the clock. Love is an art- a painting created by each person to portray their emotions through metaphors and love notes on crumpled up Post-its. Love is telling her she looks silly when she wears a cowboy hat in a boutique, but that it frames her face beautifully and she should buy it. Notice what Love is, she should buy it. Love is not showering her in gifts and meaningless compliments, but rather care and thought and reliance- not dependence. Love is going to sleep with her and waking up to a note on her pillow, “Come downstairs for pancakes.”