Still

There are arguments.

There is yelling, and tears, and frustration.

There is sadness, and anguish, and pain.

There are days where it feels as though we will never work this out.

But we love each other, still.

Because not all moments are arguments.

There is laughter, and cheeks hurting from smiling, stomachs churning with butterflies.

There is happiness, and gratitude, and pure joy.

There are days when it feels as though I cannot possibly love you more than I already do.

But our love grows, still.

This poem is about: 
Me

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