love.

Love is a passionate display of how one person or thing feels for another person or thing. Love is the smoldering embers inside your soul leaping into sudden flame the moment your eyes meet. It's the eruption of butterflies at a tender touch or longing kiss. It's not something you can set it stone. Or give a definition to - a blanket statement to cover all. It's different for every person. It's something you should savor. Never tell the one you love you love them often - it loses its tender surprise.
When he looks at me, I know I love him. But I don't want to say it. My love is timid and careful. Sometimes, it's crazy and loud. Sometimes I want to shout my love from the roof tops. But I keep my love inside. My love is a delicate secret kept away in a tiny fragile box in an enchanted forest.
My love is deep, dark, luscious brown eyes and a sly smile with imperfect teeth. It's freckles on freckles on freckles down a lean light path of skin. It's auburn, and red, and brown, and black. It's kisses on the nose, and the cheek, and the chin, and the forehead. It's giggles and duck noises. It's sneaking a kiss in a movie theater that cost us six dollars. Or hiding under a tree, trying not to get caught.
It's a reassuring smile and an "it'll be okay, Goof" when it's time to leave my love, for you see my love is a far away love. My love is a six hour drive, and a month in between love. My love is a savor every moment love.
My love is the kind that I wouldn't trade for the world.
But his love -
his love is a scared love. His love is a trying hard to love - love. It's a love I'll wait for.