Love is not fleeting.

Love is patient; It doesn’t take less than a day to like what you see.

Love grows, flourishes once you get to know him.

Love is not implanted like seeds within our soil.

Love is spontaneously born, becomes what it becomes - naturally.

Love is not fleeting.

Love is not idealistic.

Love is unpredictable; It doesn’t emerge where you’d expect.

Love is spotting the overshadowed plain sculpture in an art museum.

Love is noticing its beauty over the colorful painting, crowded with people.

Love is admiring its clay, its texture, its intricacy - quietly.

Love is not idealistic.

Love is not elusive.

Love is effortless; It doesn’t take a decayed heart to finally have him love you back.

Love is the lift to your flight, knowing when to come down.

Love is him flying the kite, and you are the kite.

Love is him gently reeling you back to the earth, to what is real.

Love is not elusive.

 

This is not love.

This was fleeting.

You implanted your passion like seeds on the soil.

But you grew a flower that had the lifespan of a fly.

This is not love.

This was idealistic.

You admired the colorful painting of an art museum, loudly.

But you overlooked the beauty of the plain sculpture.

This is not love.

This was elusive.

You were lifted off your feet; you were the kite.

But you were not reeled back to the earth.

This is not love. . .

This is not love.

This is not love.