It's interesting,
The way people look at Love,
The sappy texts a mile long,
The constant lust for the other's body,
Small little moments that seem to never end.
Those things do happen,
But not to the overbearing point that projected everywhere you see.
Love is the arguments about small things,
Learning who that person is,
The Good,
The Bad,
And the Annoying.
But it's not just that,
It's the giving space when needed,
The needing time to make their own memories,
Those times where you can share those crazy adventures when they are home in the evening.
They are getting food for the table,
And a roof over your head,
Sleeping next to one another with blissful quiet as they dream.
Make no mistake,
Those tiny clips do happen,
When you play a game together,
Or cook dinner for each other,
Dancing and singing between stirring their food.
Something as mundane as doing dishes together,
Could make their night fun,
Even sitting down to watch a show together,
Cuddled under blankets as they watch the scene.
It's a subtle kind of thing,
Most believe it is a loud,
Booming,
Show,
With people sawing 'awe' or 'I wish that was me'.
But it's always been a quiet little thing,
For those two people only to see,
On occasion it will come out,
Only it's a magical moment to see.
It's seeing the care they have for each other,
Understanding the flaws they hold,
All the vices,
Uncertainty,
And concern.
They make Love seamless,
And that's their biggest trick,
For behind their private walls,
There have been countless battles to force their Love.