Love is a shirt, a soiled sweater or a pair of socks.
anything that evokes that feeling
when you inhale the lingering scent of moments before.
moments that transcend the space continuum,
where you find yourself whisked back into their arms,
only to awaken hours later
in a pile of dirty laundry.
Love is a little notepad.
leather-bound and bejewelled.
scribbles and musings. words.
words that will be given when full.
words that hold more than mere thought.
words that hold emotion, raw.
words that breathe, and bleed-
tattooed into the heart, mind and soul.
Love is a hard-drive full of photographs,
like the heart, a hard-drive full of memories.
photographs of that face.
that face that you long to hold,
that face that you miss