Love is
the wind blowing that smells sweetly of cologne and patience and second chances.
It is
the silent recollection in the slight chill of the summer evenings.
Love is
long car rides filled with music and sleep.
Love is
the unlikely harmony of violin strings and bass guitar.
It is
a swift, soft kiss in the morning
It is
cold hands and warm hearts.
It is Friday night wine and Saturday morning coffee.
Love is the sound of even breathing in the darkness of night.
Love is the imperfect flaws and mistakes of perfect connection.
Love is boring TV shows and the creak of the couch when both parties have surrendered from the storm of words and hurt.
It is the curling, wispy afterlife of cigarettes stuck between red lips and wandering thoughts.

Love is looks and laughter and anger and facial expressions and touches and sighs and retribution and forgiveness and comfort in his arms,
knowing that you are one soul, two branches from the same tree, forever connected underneath God's blue sky.