Love (Or at Least My Take on It)

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Love.
I’m not exactly sure what it is. It’s used so often that it sort of loses its meaning.
I mean, you so look forward to that ay you’re in it but… when do you know?
Is this love?
I’m infatuated with her; not one thing I would change. My words are simple yet… they need no further explanation. I want to write down pages upon pages of her essence, her beauty, herself. And this, well, this does not do her justice.
Or maybe it does?
All I’m saying is that maybe when trying to describe _______ that’s out of your grasp, (no real adjective to describe love or whatever this is, so it’s just better left blank, instead of rambling on about something that you don’t completely understand) it’s better to just not explain it, instead of trying to.
That doesn’t really make sense, huh.
Love. Or maybe I’m just reading too into it.
Or maybe that’s the beauty of love.
Love, what a crazy _______.





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