Love is patient.
By the time I learned how to ride a bike, my friends were already riding skateboards and motorcycles.

Love is kind.
But before I learned it, I lost my balance a few times and had to tender some scars after hitting a rock and the rough asphalt.

It does not envy, it does not boast.
I was envy. It always seemed as if everyone else got whatever it was I could not have. I could not boast because I had nothing.

It is not rude.
If I had the chance to spit on my father's grave, I would.

It is not self-seeking.
I won't think of her like that, but somewhere along the way, she has forgotten herself.

It is not easily angered.
I could spare the old lady for walking a bit slower than the rest of us in the station.

It keeps no record of wrongs.
But I will remember that painful wait.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
Sleeping with someone else's boyfriend sounds pretty horrible, especially if you enjoyed it.

It always protects.
Not a single soul could ever come close and get the chance to hurt me.

It always trusts.
It has been broken one too many times.

Always hopes.
You might think that once the damage is done, everything shatters. Everything won't.

A single breath is all you need to remind yourself you persevere.
You always have.
And so, you always will.