They asked me, "What is love?.",
I said, Love is serene melancholy,
Water that come bursting forth from the springs of your soul when you hear their voice,
A warmth that quells the deepest frost,
Yet lingers like the dusk's embrace.

Love is showering their freckled face with kisses,
And tracing silent maps of dreams upon their skin,
Where every touch is both a question and an answer,
A whispered vow beneath a crescent moon.

Love is losing...