Romance is reading the love letters
you wrote her galvanized by soothing words
of admiration while a gleaming arc forms
in her lips out of sheer ecstasy

Romance is strolling in the park
where your fingers slowly touch hers
and the friction between your hands
yields a static jolt and electric charge

Romance is dancing in the ballroom
with hips swaying in synchrony with the
resonance of a heart-stopping reality
twisted in the locks of time

.
.
.

While love,

Love is the compelling uprush
of pumping blood in your veins
as she walked down the staircase
in a hugging pink lace dress
with glamorous allure

Love is the frantic rattling of your
nerves because you saw her fragility when
your first real fight pierced right through her
and she cried crystallized fractals of blood

Love is the swirl and whirl of emotions
swerving from the direction of the sun
to the moon, leaving you unaware of its
possible death or resuscitation,
its fleeting or lingering state

.
.
.

And if you ask me what we have,

It’s more than just romance,
It's love.