When asked about love, you might think about the glitters. The teddybears, the long kisses and warm hugs at your doorway, or when we walked through that noisy street from the old cathedral, perhaps that food we ate in a long Friday afternoon, or even that baby smiling at us in the mall after watching in the cinema, and maybe that love letters I gave you every twelve o’clock after class.
But when you asked what is love, my mind travelled through space, searching an answer.
Love for me is that sweaty palms, while our hands were embracing each other like long lost lovers.
Love for me is that awkward silence when your eyes caught mine staring at you, then ended up with wide smiles and louder laughters.
Love for me is when you ran out of your stall searching for the full moon, even when you have a poor vision, making you more like an astronaut while we were on call.
Love for me is whenever you slide your arm to mine like how newly wed couples walk in the aisle.
Love for is whenever you are with me.
Love for me is your name.
You gave definition to love all dictionaries never did.
Those romantic movies, love songs and poems only made sense after you happened to me.
You are love, my dear.
