I love you.
At least, I think I do.
I've never quite been too sure
about this thing called love
But every time I see you or hear your name,
my heart slows down to a deafening pace,
my cheeks flush with color,
and my mouth softly curves into a smile.
Just being in your presence fills me with zeal
and when you're away, I ache for you so deeply and purely.
When you're unhappy, I too, feel unhappy.
Is this what they call love?
If no, what is it then?
If yes, then I like it.
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 9:15 AM UTC
I love you.
At least, I think I do.
I've never quite been too sure
about this thing called love
But every time I see you or hear your name,
my heart slows down to a deafening pace,
my cheeks flush with color,
and my mouth softly curves into a smile.
Just being in your presence fills me with zeal
and when you're away, I ache for you so deeply and purely.
When you're unhappy, I too, feel unhappy.
Is this what they call love?
If no, what is it then?
If yes, then I like it.
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