#lovelanguage
Love, to me, is to be considered.
Not in grand gestures or fleeting fireworks,
but in the quiet, steady ways of choosing.
It is when both feelings are weighed
before decisions are made,
when being thought of in the midst of busy days
means more than flowers and chocolates
offered after apologies.
Because love, to me, is not convenience.
Not something you remember only when it fits.
It is something you carry,
something you keep,
even in the hollow days
when we both feel empty.
Nov 17, 2025
Nov 17, 2025 at 11:52 PM UTC
Don’t measure my love by the brush of a hand,
For scars of the past still quietly stand.
It isn’t rejection, it isn’t the cold,
It’s stories of trauma my silence still holds.
I bloom in connection that’s steady and true,
In words that run deeper, in souls I see through.
Love isn’t in gestures that vanish too fast—
It’s roots intertwined, it’s a bond built to last.
Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 11:08 PM UTC
Oh yes, I deserve to be touched like a song —
The kind that hums warm beneath your skin,
Truly the kind of verse that lingers after it's gone,
Feelings like lips chasing honey, aching to begin.
I'll be a hundred miles out of breath; no ease —
Not to drift through love like life’s just a breeze,
But to feel the weight of it, strong and long —
Not to breeze through kisses like they don’t belong.
Let me find the centre of her hive, even if it stings —
I’ll wear the wounds for the sweetness it brings.
And I'll give buckets of love — _let her be my list,_
Filling up her day as a bucket list; every joy I’ve missed.
☐ To check myself daily — _am I still right for her?_
☐ To write emotional cheques that mirror her worth
☐ To admire her skin like diamonds, her hair like dusk
☐ To breathe in her scent — warm myrrh, not just musk
☐ To love her as one who's fully unmasked and just,
☐ To rise beside her in creation; like Adam from the dust
☐ To speak smooth words not to convince, but soothe
☐ To be her steady stillness, to be her rhythm, her truth
☐ To warm her up like tea after long, many loud days
☐ Then to spill the tea of our day, in the softest ways
☐ To hold her close where she can safely freefall
☐ And to keep my arms armed, but never build up walls
‘Cause everyone’s quick to think love peaks with *** —
But true touch starts when the soul, and another connects.
Where her rivers rush not from the waist, but from her heart,
And your love leaves graffiti on her walls, becoming fine art.
As you don’t paint over passion — _you trace, and extend,_
As you learn and value all of her curves, love and her bends.
To be a market of marvels; variety with depth in store —
So she aches with wonder for what's in store.
__She truly deserves more.__
Jul 31, 2025
Jul 31, 2025 at 1:17 PM UTC
The same girl who could love you with her eyes closed,
chooses to see you.
Even the parts you don't like
or even the parts you can't see.
The same boy who loves you with his eyes,
doesn't see all of you.
Misses the parts of you that you think shine,
and the parts you know everyone else can see.
The same couple who love differently,
love the same,
if only you look close enough.
It was the eyes for her,
and the hands for him.
It was the love and affection for him,
and the words for her.
It was how he looked at her,
and how she looked at him.
If all it took was a look,
why were their eyes closed?
Oct 30, 2024
Oct 30, 2024 at 12:05 PM UTC
Love me with your words
With
rhythm
in
your
rhyme
Sample me in your poetry
Take your heart out of your chest and give it to me, serve it on a page
Sign it with your name
Speak to me so I can understand
Love me with ink on your hands
Mar 1, 2023
Mar 1, 2023 at 5:22 AM UTC
We are the same creature
With language gap
Of expressing
What do we feel
I’m whispering words to his ear
While he’s doing things
That I can't hear
He's cold as winter
While I'm coming
As fast as spring
That chase winter away
He's as smooth as a calm sea
While I'm the tempest
That crippled the wave
In sailor's night
However,
We are giving
Each one of us
A part of ourself
That's fragile
Easily broken
Foolishly hoping
No damage will be taken
So many differences between us
And there will be obstacles ahead of us
I took a chance
Without any second glance
To believe
For what we had
What shared
Were real
So then
When the honeymoon phase
Is driving away
Our true colour start to ablaze
Every single day
Deep down there
We still have a reason to stay
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 5:47 AM UTC
If that's love, I don't want it.
If we argue everyday
about minuscule money problems,
I don't want it.
If you're gonna lie to me in order to "make me feel better",
I don't want it.
If even after I accept your flaws you disrespect me,
I don't want it.
If I'll never be the only chick as opposed to the side or main chick,
I don't want it.
If I'm always giving and never receiving,
I don't want it.
Especially when you know
my love language is receiving.
Aug 22, 2020
Aug 22, 2020 at 4:22 PM UTC
i. He calls me sunshine.
ii. He hypes up my pictures.
iii. He reaches me every day.
iv. He tries to speak in my favourite language.
v. He absolutely knows how to flatter me with love.
vi. He spams me with morning and night wishes.
vii. He still makes time for me out of his packed schedule.
Best of all, he is **** serious with his life vision with me.
— seven things I thought they wouldn’t happen to the insignificant me, before you serendipitously came into my life.
Feb 10, 2020
Feb 10, 2020 at 12:08 PM UTC
My grandpa
Words he gave
To me once upon a full moon
“Son” he said
“When you go into this life”
“Remember, that love is a language “
“So find, my son, find someone”
“Who speaks your language “
“So you don’t have to translate your soul”
Hmmm.
Dec 19, 2018
Dec 19, 2018 at 7:54 AM UTC
I often ask myself why I spend so much time learning another language
Why do I obsess and stress over something by my own will?
What do I have to gain, why do I want to teach and translate this foreign tongue?
Yet every night I force new words into my mind
And it makes me feel so calm and distracted
All my fears and concerns fade away as I take this information into my brain
I see nothing but beauty in every character I write so much so that I often write in the wrong alphabet
To me it's the most perfect and beautiful script
It's like riding a bike for the first time everytime I translate in my mind
The culture and language has found its way into my heart
I've fallen in love with the language like you do a person
Slowly, then all at once
Without understanding at first but slowly uncoiling the wonderful beauty before my eyes
I've found my passion and my saviour all at once
There is power in words which spawn from language
Every new term I learn makes me feel just that much stronger
Enough to feel invincible
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 2:05 AM UTC
Your choice of words,
And how you say it,
Can make or break my day.
But you know that.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 5:24 AM UTC
I think I hear "I love you" way more often than I think, it's when he gets up in the middle of the night and brings me back a drink.
It's, "do not wake her up, yet" and "honey, go back to bed"
It's how he sits in front of me and wipes away every tear I shed.
It's how he kisses me so sweetly every morning before he leaves and returns to do the same thing every single eve.
He cuddles up to me so neither one of us will get cold and then he starts of sentences with "so when we are old..."
I think I hear "I love you" more often than I know
It's in the little things, like him watching all my shows.
It's when we go to eat and he picks my favorite place.
And how he knows my mood just by looking at my face.
I think I hear "I love you" in fact, I know I do.
I just hope he never has to wonder if I love him too.
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 1:41 AM UTC
Some boy wrote a note to my daughter:
"Your voice, a thing divine."
He quoth the bard of yesteryear
Love shared, by design
"Dad! My ovaries just exploded!"
What every father wants to hear
Well done, young lad. Well said
Love spoken, crushes fear
My care for her, unmatched
No mimic is available
So, I will speak with words attached
To love that is invisible
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 2:16 AM UTC