true love isn't verbal communication and even though years and years of watching romcoms has taught me that, i've realised that love is quite the opposite of those hefty i love you's thrown at the end of phone calls and during early morning routines

love is passion. love is fire, pain, angst, and everything in-between. love is the way he looks at you in the middle of his meal and doesn't know how to react when you ask what. love is the way he kisses you harder than you've ever been kissed before in the middle of the dining hall because of the naive belief that maybe that kiss could replace the pain you felt at the time, love is grabbing skin and pulling lips and tightening grips designed to replace words so that maybe you can avoid saying love for a bit longer

love is finding myself in empty streets because i think i saw his reflection, running around in circles in my brain reaching the same **** conclusion that there is no escape route because your mind no longer wants to find one, telling myself that i'm beautiful and throwing in a i wish he could see me and feel proud of an award

but love is also learning to let go. love is telling yourself that perhaps it's better to let them go because somebody told me holding on the rope causes more pain than good and i've finally realised that after all maybe blood in the name of a beating heart isn't okay if spilt for nothing in twisted knots. love is being able to look each other in the eye and tell yourselves that history is history and that you need to move on because it's going nowhere and everywhere and neither of you are prepared for that right now. love is having the spark forever but choosing when to burn it, looking at them months later and seeing it again, deciding years later it's good it ended. love is finding them again in all corners of the world; finding all of them.

but most of all, love is accepting that love will come again.