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 your 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 mail, the sound of wind escaping through the small gap in your window, the dampness in your hair, the chipped red varnish on your fingernails, your grandmother's music box,the music playing in your car stereo, 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 breath, your sensitive teeth, the tangles in your lovers hair, sleepless night, undeserved success and recognition, telling lies and not getting caught, being desired by multiple parties, solving a mathematical problem, watching the people around you, watching the people fucking up around you, screaming our of your window in the middle of the night, flaming your lover's ex, smudged mascara, disheveled hair and smeared lipstick, the coffee you digest on a daily basis, silence, recyclable materials, trees.
No. Love is you, and I, and a careless mixture of everything else we worry about.