A/n: The author has issues. Sorry. What love should be, through her eyes.

On Love

We are happy.

Well, not always

But most of the…

Occasionally.

After all

We’re not perfect.

I’M not perfect.

He could be.

Maybe.

But I love him.

Isn’t that enough?

I love…

I love the way he looks at night

In the darkness

Beauty.

Mystery.

I love his skin beneath my fingers,

And the way his eyebrows

Always look out of place.

I like the way he sings

And how sometimes I need to get away

Just to stay sane.

His voice,

My joy.

It drives me insane

In bad ways,

In good ways…

But always in way

That only he knows.

I may not always act

The way I know I should

Just to make his happy,

But I love him…

Isn’t that enough?

Nights,

We sit up late

And speak in song

With words and rhythms only we can hear.

Rough fingers slide

Over bitter-sweet six,

And biting fourths,

Dissident sevenths

Split our heads,

Breaking our hearts

And mending them.

And most of the…

Occasionally,

We are happy.