Her eyes speak wonders
Her voice is so mysterious
I tremble every time I hear it
The feeling must be love

I watch her sip hot mint tea
She takes a drag from her cigarette
And the smoke is released, escaping passed her lips
I'm jealous of the contact they share

She looks at me with her deep gaze
Whispers how she loves me under her breath
I want to pick her up and take her away
Claim her for me and make her stay

I love just watching her in plain sight
She's so lovely to me that nobody else could suffice
This isn't a phase, no, this is real
She has everything I want, all the appeal

I am captivated at best
She's my ultimate distraction unlike the rest
I tremble every time I see her
The feeling must be love

I was never in love with you

I was in love with the Idea, the adventure

And I'm not sorry for that.

She is the summer
Hot air and **** lemonade
Kisses and passion

Make love* is such an odd term for ***.
Why romanticize something that's already romantic?
Beautiful in itself?
If someone asked if I was a ******, I'd say,
"No, I make love everyday."
Because I do.
Making love isn't ***.
Not to me, anyway.
Making love is defined in everyday actions.
A simple "I love you".
Or another "You are so beautiful".
Even something like "I appreciate you".
Making love is spreading love.
To some, it may sound... creepy.
To others, it may make sense.
I hope it makes sense.