Love is pink, red, bright, beautiful.
It looks like her. It looks like the angel you daydream about in class.  
It looks like your arm around theirs.
It looks like your arm around her.  
Like her eyes.

It sounds like your lovers heart beating as you lye on their chest.
It sounds like the stupid jokes she makes at 2 A.M. when you've been talking all night.
Like her laugh.

It tastes like your lovers lips that you miss so dearly.
It tastes like that Pizza you ate while watching chick flicks,
just because she wanted to watch them
and you weren't about to say no to the one you love.
A-lot like her lips, yes.

It smells like her long, glossy hair.
  It smells like the expensive perfume she wore on your first date with her.
It smells oddly like flowers in an open meadow.
Very much like her hair, and like that nice shampoo she uses.

Not only all this, but it feels like the most beautiful thing to ever happen to you.
So much like an ocean on high tide: fast and so intensely captivating that you may never want to leave its sight.
It feels like passion in its purest form.
It's the very fuel for my passion for her.
The very fire that will light your heart and keep you going.  
Your birthright. The ultimate pursuit of happiness.
It's inescapable. It's innumerable how much I love her.
She's immaculate. She's inescapable. But I'm not sure I want to escape. Love feels perfect, love is perfect, love is breathtaking, stunning,
and so sublime.
Like her.
*Like her love.