Love is the scars on your knees, the leftover food in the refrigerator, the song the birds sing, the pain you inflict, the sweet nothingness which flutters from lover's mouth, a half-complete cigarette, diet coke which fizzles on your tongue, the rainbow sprinkles on your cupcake, the battered package you received in the meil the other day,the sound of wind escaping through a small gap in your window, the dampness in your hair, the chipped red varnish on your finger-nails, your grandmothers musical box, the ballet shoes you've had since you were five, the music playing on your car stereo, the flaky plaint on your walls, the bubblegum stuck under desks, the tooth-fairy, your hands and the things you can make with them, the kisses you blow, the clothes you wear, 5am morning beath, your sensitive teeth, the tingly feeling you get when you get touched at certain parts of your body, the tangles in your lover's hair, sleepless nights, overdosing on painkillers, undeserved success and recognition, telling lies and not getting cought, blacking out from consuming too much alkohol, being desired by multiple parties, solving a mathematical problem, watching the people around you, watching the people fucking up around you, screaming you of your window in the middle of the night, flaming your lover's ex, sexy make-up, smudged mascara, dishevelled hair and smeared lipstick, the coffee and bagel you digest on a daily basis, little children, silence, recyclable materials, trees, photosynthesis, growth, development, the placebo effect, ...

No. Love is
You, I, and a careless mixture of everything else we worry about.


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